


Conference Call

by ProfessorFlimflam



Category: Holby City
Genre: All The Tropes, Conference, F/F, Fake Relationship, It is a date though, Massage, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Shiraz and Champagne, Tropes, When is a date not a date?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFlimflam/pseuds/ProfessorFlimflam
Summary: Hanssen insists that the co-leads of AAU need to get out there and find out what’s hot and what’s not. Serena books herself and Bernie on the first thing she sees that seems to fit the bill - the GLDA annual conference. It turns out that the acronym doesn’t stand for the Greater London Doctors’ Association as she had assumed, but for something rather more specialised.Over the three days of the conference, Serena does indeed find out what’s hot.





	1. “You’ve Booked Us On What?”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fortytworedvines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/gifts).



> A prize fic for the lovely @fortytworedvines, who was one of the winners of the Harvest Home Harvest Festival competition. The prompt she chose was Fake Relationship, and this is what came out of my head in response.

“You’ve booked us on _what?_ ”

Bernie’s face was a picture. A picture of what, Serena wasn’t quite sure, but it was clear that her little surprise wasn’t going down quite the way she’d planned it.

“A conference - don’t look at me like that, it’ll be fun! We’re only going as delegates, we don’t need to prepare a paper - it’s a bit of a jolly, really. Henrik suggested we broaden our outlook a bit, get some ideas from other areas. Now, he probably meant other disciplines, but he ought to be more careful with his words, oughtn’t he? Anyway, I thought a few days in London would be fun, and there’s sure to be something interesting at a three day conference on primary care, isn’t there? I mean, all right, Stepney might not be the most glamorous location for a conference, but the hotel looks nice.”

Bernie’s face had gone through a range of expressions during this little speech, from disbelief to cynicism, ending up with something that looked like pity.

“Serena, what’s the name of the conference again?”

“I told you: GLDA - it’s the Greater London Doctors’ Association or something like that, I think - it’s their annual conference. The theme is - hang on, I’ve got it written down here somewhere - ah! Here. “Out and About in Primary Care.” I know it’s a bit broad, but it fits the bill - Henrik said to see what’s out there, what’s hot and what’s not, that sort of thing - what?”

Bernie was shaking her head, now with a sort of “more in sorrow than in anger” look on her face.

“Show me the leaflet.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen one,” Serena said breezily, waving a dismissive hand. “I read something about it in the BMJ last week and just asked HR to book us on it - it was on bit of a whim, really. Henrik’s been nagging me to raise my head above the parapet for a while - he thinks I’ve been too inward looking, and to be quite honest, I just booked us on the first thing I saw. Why, what’s the problem?”

“You’ve booked us on a three day residential conference with the GLDA. Serena, it doesn’t stand for the Greater London Doctors’ Association - it’s the Gay and Lesbian Doctors' Alliance.”

“What?”

“You heard. You’ve booked us on a big gay conference, renowned for its focus on - let’s say _extracurricular_ activities - rather than for its academic contributions to medicine. You really haven’t heard of it before?”

“No! Well, why would I? I thought everything was LGBT these days - can’t they use standard acronyms?”

“Hey, less of the ‘they,’ please! The GLDA was formed well before the rest of the world became quite so PC, and even the L was a bit of an afterthought - it was basically a boys’ club until relevantly recently.”

Serena looked at Bernie curiously. “You’re awfully well-informed about it - are you a member?”

Bernie shook her head and laughed, her hands raised as though backing away from the very notion. “Oh, no. Not my cup of tea at all. Alex is, though - or was. She joined thinking it was an action group - well, it was originally - campaigning for equal rights, protection, that sort of thing, but it’s degenerated into a purely social group now - and when I say social, I mean it’s basically a dating agency, and the conference is a glorified cattle market.”

Seeing Serena’s face, she relented. “Oh, don’t look so worried. It was an honest mistake - just cancel the booking and we’ll find something a bit more appropriate to go on - Hanssen’s right, it would be good to get a broader view of things.”

***

Bernie was pleasantly surprised to find a still steaming cup of coffee and an apricot danish on her desk when she dropped into the office after the consult she’d provided in A&E later. She smiled as she picked up the cup, hugging it close to her, enjoying the warmth against her chilled fingers. Coffee and a pastry had become their shorthand for a number of things, depending on context, but most usually they meant either “thank you” or “sorry.” She wondered which it was in this instance - a sorry for the mix up, or a thank you for being so understanding about it - and of course for saving Serena the awkwardness of turning up at the conference still under the misapprehension that it was a serious medical conference. She chuckled. From what she’d heard, GLDA wasn’t so much of a boys’ club these days, not by any means, and Alex had told her that the women were at least as keen as the men on the fun and games to be had at conference: she could only imagine how popular Serena would have been - she would have been fighting them off left right and centre!

Still laughing at the image of Serena ducking and evading the sapphic attentions of the gayest conference of the year, she sat down to tackle the stack of patient files she had allowed to accumulate over the course of the week. Waking up her PC, she turned to her intray - and blinked in confusion: it was empty, save for a post-it note bearing the simple message: _My treat! S._

Well, that was odd. Serena had been nagging her for days about the backlog, and had been most emphatic about it: “You needn’t think I’m going to do it for you!” she had snapped only yesterday when Bernie had thrown her a beseeching look. “Honestly Bernie, it’s part of the job just as much as the heroic surgery - just do it!” Surely this wasn’t about the conference as well? It seemed like over compensation - but she was by no means ungrateful. Well. Now that Serena had done her this favour, she really ought to do the other little job she had been putting off all afternoon. She had been glad to get the call over to A&E earlier, and she had been hoping that by the time she got back, Mr Lawrence, he of the wandering hands, the terrible breath and the unreliable bladder, would have been discharged, but his name had still been on the board a moment ago as she had passed the nurses’ station. Echoing Serena’s admonishment of the day before, she gritted her teeth and muttered, “Come on Wolfe - just do it.”

But when she arrived at bay three, all she found was Serena, applying alcogel very liberally to her hands, wrists and forearms, a look of intense distaste on her face.

“Serena? I told you I’d deal with him. Goodness knows he’s given you enough grief already - you should have left him to me!”

She noticed the look of - what was that? anxiety? guilt? - that flickered briefly over Serena’s face before transforming into a bright smile, and her eyes narrowed.

“All right, Campbell - spill it.”

Serena turned back to Mr Lawrence’s chart and fussed over the notes she had made, clearly onlypretending to check that all was in order.

“Come on, I know something’s up. Coffee and a pastry, that’s one thing - but all my paperwork? And now Lawrence the Letch - what have you done?”

Serena turned to her with an anguished look, and hustled her back into the office, shutting the door behind them.

“I tried, Bernie, I really did - but the cancellation policy says no refunds in the final week before the conference, so I’m afraid we’re stuck with it. I tried begging off, but Henrik pointed out what it looked like, deciding not to go once I discovered it was an LGBT thing, and I sort of take his point. I’m not homophobic - you do know that, don’t you? - I just feel very awkward about it, roping you into it, when it sounds the exact opposite of your idea of a good time. We’ll just go to the sessions, and duck out of all the social things, go and have dinner, or see a show or something. I’m so sorry - oof!”

For to her astonishment, Bernie had tackled her into a crushing hug, which was over the moment it had begun, but was fierce enough and unexpected enough to have stopped her babbling.

“What was that for?” she wondered aloud.

“For knowing that you’re taking me to my idea of hell. If you had any idea of the number of people who’ve suggested I go to this blasted thing - ‘Oh, Ms Wolfe, I’ve found just the thing for you, it’s all - you know - like-minded people, you might even meet someone’ - or with some bizarre expectation that it’s my job to represent all the gays of Holby just because I got outed. Hrrmmph! But - and I’m not forgetting that it’s you that’s got us into this mess, mind - you knew as soon as you realised what the conference was that it really wouldn’t be my thing. So - thank you. But also - oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Serena giggled, a relieved little gasp of a laugh, and said, “You’re welcome - and I really am sorry, but it appears there’s no getting out of it now, so we’ll just have to make the best of it. It can’t really be that bad, can it?”


	2. Day One: Welcome To Gay And E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On arrival at the conference, all Bernie’s worst fears are confirmed. The sessions are unspeakably embarrassing, and Serena, as Bernie had predicted, catches the eye of a few women. Serena muses on what gay women look like, and inadvertently describes someone who sounds very familiar...

“Oh. My. God.”

“Will it help if I say sorry again?”

Bernie turned an unhappy face to Serena, and shook her head. “I don’t think there’s any help to be had. Just look at them!”

They had arrived on the early train an hour or so before, and having fortified themselves with a strong, hot cup of coffee in a little place near the conference venue, had registered and collected their name badges and delegate packs, before being ushered through into one of the social spaces. The scene resembled nothing quite so much as a watering hole, with packs of hungry lions or cheetahs circling their prey - except everyone in the room seemed to be a big cat. Serena had a horrible feeling that she and Bernie might be the gazelles. She said as much to Bernie in a low voice.

“It’s a bit like that, isn’t it? Only, try and avoid terms like predatory - bit loaded,” Bernie warned.

“But they are - just look at them! They’re practically slavering over each other!”

“Sharking,” Bernie said, confusing Serena for a moment.

“Sharking? What’s that? Is that a gay thing?”

Bernie laughed. “No, I don’t think so. It’s what we called it at university - didn’t you? Out on the hunt, sniffing out the talent - actually, that’s quite good. I suppose normally, you’d have to be careful about sniffing out who’s gay and who might thump you one if you went in for the kill - you know, that thing about sharks sensing one drop of blood in the ocean - but here, everyone’s gay, so they’re over-stimulated - hence the feeding frenzy.”

“Not quite everyone,” Serena observed dryly.

“Well, no,” Bernie agreed, “but it might be an idea to keep quiet about that. Things like this are a sort of safe space, and you might find that some people think you’re muscling in, like men wanting to be involved in women-only events.”

“Ah - noted. For the next three days, I’m as gay as the next woman.”

“Well, as I’m the next woman, I’d better teach you the secret handshake, make sure you don’t get found out. Come on, I think people are starting to go through to the lecture theatre.”

They found a couple of seats two thirds of the way back, and towards the side of the room.

“Planning possible routes of retreat, Major? Don’t blame you. Now, let’s have a look - is there anyone we know here?” Serena was already leafing through the pack they had been given to find the delegate list, and they spent a pleasurable few minutes combing it for familiar names, with the occasional exclamation of “Him? Oh, I’d no idea!” and “Ha! Always knew she was!”

“Of course,” Bernie pointed out, “Chances are that someone in this room is reading the same list and saying exactly the same things about us.”

That piqued Serena’s interest, and she wondered aloud which reaction their own inclusion on the list was eliciting.

“I don’t think anyone will be terribly surprised to see my name there,” Bernie mused. “Even though I was married, women in the army are always under a bit of suspicion in that regard - and there are plenty of other service women here, I’d say. You, on the other hand…”

“What? What about me? I could so be gay!” Serena was indignant.

“Shh, you’re meant to be in deep cover, remember? And it’s not a compliment or an insult either way. I was just thinking aloud, really. Look. Have a look around the room, tell me what you see - the women, that is. Go on - describe the typical delegate.”

Sensing a trap, Serena narrowed her eyes at Bernie, but did as she was told, sweeping the room with a casual gaze.

“Hmm - well, there’s no such thing as typical, really, is there? But there are some definite trends. I’d say we’ve got some very confident junior doctors here, all undercuts and piercings, definitely out and proud. My god, I’d ground Elinor for a year if she came home with tattoos like that!”

“If you grounded Elinor for a year, you’d actually have to spend a year with her in your house, and you’d go mad within a fortnight,” Bernie reminded her. “And I’m not sure you can technically ground a twenty year old. Never mind. Go on - what else?”

“Both excellent points. OK. Moving on, we have, regardless of age, some very feminine women, girly girls even - bi, do you think?”

Bernie shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, maybe, but it doesn’t always follow. Look - the tall woman over there, in the purple dress. She’s an anaesthetist, friend of Alex’s - former colleague too, actually, though I never worked with her. Look at her, glamorous as anything, three inch heels, looks like a breeze would go through her - apparently she’s, and I quote, the gayest thing Alex has ever seen, dated half the women in her battalion in the space of a year. ‘Dated,’ by the way, is a euphemism in this case.”

“Okay, so I’m not to judge a book by its cover. But there’s a definite third type here. Older women, power dressers, I’d guess all top management level, almost offensively confident - and I bet they’re all dominant in the sack, too.”

Bernie gave her a sideways look. “Remind you of anyone? Well,” she suddenly blustered, having heard the last part of Serena’s assessment too late, “Of course, I don’t know about the bedroom bit, but…”

“What? Who? Who are they meant to remind me of?”

Bernie was laughing, but she had gone awfully red, and she tried desperately to backpedal. “Oh, no-one, no-one in particular - like you say, it’s just a type isn’t it?”

But Serena had cottoned on. “You think I’m offensively confident? Well, why shouldn’t I be! You need to be confident if you’re going up against the likes of Guy Self, and you have to dress to match the part, and I - oh.” Serena pulled up abruptly, and had to concede the point.

“Alright, yes - I fit the bill. So, what - I’m a lesbian now, am I?”

“Again - you’re not being particularly subtle, Agent Campbell. But no, I just mean that all you’ve really done is describe different types of women - and that’s all there is to it. So yes, of course you could be gay - because all it takes is being a woman - however you define that - and liking other women - ditto. It’s really not that complicated. Anyway, I’ve forgotten why we’re arguing about whether or not you could be gay - it’s a moot point, isn’t it. Oh, look, I think we’re starting. What’s this? _Welcome to Gay and E,_ \- chairman’s introduction. Yikes.”

***

“Well, that was different.” Serena’s face was carefully neutral. “Can’t quite imagine Hanssen giving a talk like that, can you?”

“What a horrible thought. I can’t imagine anyone from Holby sharing quite that much information with their colleagues - though I think if it had to happen, I’d sooner it was Hanssen than, say, Rossini.”

“Ugh, no! Or Dominic, bless him - I suspect he’d go into even more detail - it would definitely be a longer talk, the way he gets through them.”

“You leave Dominic alone, he’s my dudebro - that’s what Cameron tells me, anyway.”

Serena snorted. “Dudebro - really? I’m not sure you should take anything your son says too much to heart.”

“No, you’re probably right,” Bernie replied, her expression briefly clouding over. “What does he know about anything, eh?”

“Exactly. Young pup. What’s up next? Oh, god, the puns! Do they have to do this? Listen - _By the Bi: An Elective Affair?_ ”

Bernie squirmed in her seat. “That sounds a bit earnest. I’m going to need a caffeine top-up, I think - I’ll bring one back for you, shall I?”

There was a bit of a queue at the drinks table, not helped by the fact that half the delegates appeared to be asking for coffee and a phone number. Bernie managed to avoid eye contact with a single soul, which seemed the safest way to survive: she wondered if she would be able to manage three days without making eye contact with anyone other than Serena? Not that it would be much of a hardship, or a challenge. She could look into those eyes and ignore the rest of the world quite happily, she thought with a sigh. Damn the boy, but Cameron was right about more things than just Dominic.

When she got back to the lecture theatre, it was clear that she was not the only one here who only had eyes for Serena. Her own seat had been filled by one of the bright young things Serena had described before, with a shade of hair not normally found in nature, and a handful of piercings that were striking but not unattractive. She was leaning in to Serena’s personal space in a way that made Bernie bristle, and as she closed in, she heard the young woman practically purring as she suggested to Serena that a junior like her had a lot to learn from someone with more… experience. She girded her loins, ready to sweep in and rescue Serena, but she was coping just fine on her own.

“Well, yes, you do tend to rack up plenty of experience when you’ve been… _at it_ as long as I have - I expect I’m older than your mother! That’s something to think about, isn’t it? Oh, good - there you are, Bernie, just in time. Lovely talking to you, dear - good luck in your finals.”

As the somewhat deflated medical student slunk away, Bernie handed Serena her coffee, and shook her head. “I leave you alone for five minutes and this is how I find you? Poor kid - that was cruel.”

Serena twinkled at her. “Nonsense. Nip it in the bud, much kinder that way. It might be a novelty betting chatted up by a girl, but she’s not the first baby doctor I’ve had to knock back. They all fancy their chances, for some reason.”

“Hmm, _for some reason_. But you’re not freaked out by it? Good - you’ll need to get used to it, I think. Anyway, that’s one of your types you can cross off now. What have we got between now and lunch?” she asked, changing the subject. “I know we’ve got this bi thing first - isn’t there another paper before feeding time?”

Serena looked down at the programme, running a finger down the listing.

“Let’s see… oh Lord, have you looked at this thing? Have you seen this - look: there are three strands - not unusual for a conference, I hear you say - but - oh, really. Okay. So this afternoon, we have _Foreplay_.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Indeed. Then tomorrow is _Caught In The Act_ -”

“Jesus.”

“I know. And the final day - wait for it - _Afterglow._ ”

Bernie - there was no other word for it - honked with laughter. “Dear God, Serena, what have you got us into? How on earth do they justify this nonsense?”

Serena pulled a pair of reading glasses out of her handbag, and perching them on her nose, tried to make sense of it.

“Right. Okay. Foreplay is all about starting out - no surprises there, I suppose - in a new job, or coming out at work, or starting new relationships. Caught In The Act… managing relationships at work, weighing up the risks and rewards of - oh dear - ‘shenanigans - or _he_ -nanigans - in the workplace’... legal issues - no kidding - oh, goodness, there are some quite… niche sessions. Oh thank god, they’re optional breakout workshops.”

“I’m almost scared to ask, but what does Afterglow cover?”

“Happy ever after or heartbreak, basically - managing a break up at work, and keeping the work-life balance healthy for the happy-ever-afters - though looking at tomorrow’s schedule they should probably cover that sooner rather than later, I would say. I’m sorry, but shagging in a linen cupboard is not a good work-life balance!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Serena - don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Bernie winked.

“What makes you think I haven’t? Anyway, to answer your question, we’ve got one more session before lunch - oh, we’re segregated for this bit. We’ve got _Dyke-otomy: better in or out?_ God, I hope there’s wine at lunch.”

***

Serena declared the wine acceptable, and proceeded to accept an impressive quantity of the stuff. They had both been receiving their fair share of admiring glances, and while Bernie’s body language was enough to deter all but the most determined, Serena was giving off quite different signals, and the woman who had never learned not to flirt was surrounded by a positive bevy of young medics fawning on her every word. Returning from the buffet where she had reloaded her plate, Bernie sighed, seeing a fresh batch gathered at their table.

“So, Serena, when did you come out at work?” one of them asked, gazing dreamily at Serena, whose face was a little flushed from the alcohol and the attention, and who, Bernie thought, had rarely looked lovelier.

“Well,” Serena said, leaning in confidentially, “I’ll let you into a little secret. I’m not actually -”

“Going to discuss that with you,” Bernie cut in, glaring at Serena. “Excuse me, I’m sitting here.” the youngsters scattered, some giggling, some scowling, and Bernie sat back down. “Enjoying your chicken dinner?” she asked dryly.

“What? I’m haven’t got chicken, I’ve got the - oh, I see, very funny. They were just taking an interest,” she brushed Bernie’s comment off.

“I’ll say,” said Bernie, glancing down at Serena’s cleavage. “You were about to blow your cover then, you ninny.”

“No I wasn’t, as a matter of fact. I was going to say, I’m not out to most people at work. Give me a little credit. I didn’t want to have to make up a big coming out story.”

“Ah - good thinking. Had we better plan what we’re going to this afternoon, do you think? There are breakout sessions before the keynote - let’s see if we can avoid the worst of it.”

Fifteen slightly hysterical minutes later, they had rejected _Coming Out In Your 50s: how to talk about vaginal dryness to your new partner_ (“Not a problem, actually,” Serena had muttered, to Bernie’s discomfiture) and _A Cute Assessment: how accurate is your gaydar?_ , but had signed up for _Never Mind The Theatricals: the pros and cons of workplace relationships._

“Goodness knows I give people a hard enough time about it - it might be interesting to hear a new perspective on it,” Serena said. “We really ought to try and get something out of this conference. Do you think we’ve got time to go and put our luggage upstairs yet?” They had lingered over coffee that morning and had arrived in time to register, but had decided not to rush up to their shared room, and had instead left their luggage at reception. Bernie looked at her watch.

“Probably cutting it a bit fine. Let’s wait until after the keynote, then we can take our time and be a bit more relaxed about it. Finish that glass and we’ll go and find where we’re meant to be for this relationships thing.”

“Right you are, Major.” Serena stood to attention, ready for her marching orders. “Time for me to learn how the other half love.”


	3. Day One: Foreplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attending the first breakout session, Serena is challenged to think about things she's never had to consider before, and the keynote speech reinforces how naïve she has been. 
> 
> She and Bernie make some new friends, prompting a discussion about transphobia - and check out their accommodation, which isn't quite what either of them had been expecting.

The breakout rooms were surprisingly informal, with low chairs and sofas in an approximate circle, and coffee tables scattered about, with bowls of fruit and plates of little pastries for delegates to help themselves to. Serena and Bernie opted for a cosy little sofa that reminded Bernie of the comfy chairs in Albies. Looking round, it seemed to be a relatively popular session, and there was a mixed crowd of men and women, and a few who frankly could be either - or neither. It was quite refreshing to be in the company of so many people confident in their own sexuality - at least Bernie thought, it was for her, but she still wondered what Serena was making of it all. It was one thing to be open to the idea of alternative sexualities, but what was it like to suddenly find yourself the minority when you had always been the majority? It must be thought provoking at the very least.

Once everyone had settled down and helped themselves to coffee, a stout middle aged man with a neat goatee leaned forward from his chair and introduced himself as Jim, the moderator for the session. He went over a few ground rules - the usual agreement to be open, honest and respectful, and to keep whatever conversations arose in the session confidential - then explained the format for the next ninety minutes.

“We’ve got a trio of lightening talks lined up for you, though they’re not so much talks _at_ you as conversations _with_ you - we’d encourage you to chip in with your own experiences and questions, and then we’ll pool our resources at the end, see if we can come up with some basic do’s and don’ts around dealing with LGBTQ relationships at work. OK?”

The first talk took the form of a conversation between two women from a hospital in North Yorkshire, partners at work as well as in love, as they explained.

“We’d been working together for a little while, a few months, perhaps, and were becoming fast friends.” Jenny started. “I’d find myself looking forward to going in to work, which hadn’t been the case for ages, because I knew I was going to be spending time with Sue that day. It was really nice to have a friend who was on the same wavelength as me, and we found we were pretty likeminded about most things - and even when we didn’t agree, our arguments were constructive, not combative. It made really welcome change after having to prove myself against male colleagues - I just didn’t have to do all that posturing with Sue, and we always seemed to manage to work things out amicably.”

Sue spoke up. “I felt the same - and we started going for coffee and lunch together whenever we could at work. And if we couldn’t go for a break at the same time, one of us would always bring back a coffee and a ‘medicinal’ pastry for the other - do you remember?”

Jenny laughed. “I can’t believe we thought that was just something everyone does for their colleagues - every day!”

Bernie glanced sideways at Serena, who was looking thoughtful, though a little puzzled.

“Then it spilled over into an out-of-work friendship,” Sue carried on, “and we were going for drinks after work, but meeting up on our days off as well. It was nice, we were working really well together, and we had this lovely friendship building up. That’s the key to it for me - it built up over a good few months before it really occurred to me that I hadn’t felt quite like this about any other professional relationship before. I started thinking that maybe there was more to it - I didn’t really know, I hadn’t ever had a relationship with a woman before - though I had once kissed a woman at a party in Selby!”

They shared a warm look, laughing a little - there was obviously a private joke there.

“In the meantime,” Jenny went on, “I’d long known what I was feeling for Sue. But I didn’t have a clue that she was feeling the same -”

“Neither did I!” Sue interrupted, shaking her head in disbelief.

“And for all I knew she was as straight as the proverbial whatnot, so I held back, and held back, until - well, until the inevitable happened, I suppose!”

“How did you make that transition? I mean, what was it that tipped things over the edge of friendship into something more?”

Bernie looked in surprise at Serena, who had asked the question. She was leaning forward, frowning a little, as though trying to think herself into the situation.

There was a sweet little moment of unspoken communication between the two women as they decided who would tell the story, and it was Sue who spoke up.

“We’d had a hell of a day at work, treating a colleague who’d been injured, and it was a pretty close call - emotions were running high - not just us, but everyone on the ward. After surgery - Jenny and I were leading on it - we scrubbed out together, and we just looked at each other and I think we both thought, you know what, life’s short - and we pretty much fell into each other's arms. It was just a hug after a rough day - and then suddenly, it wasn’t just a hug.”

“It was intense, wasn’t it?” Jenny smiled. “And afterwards, when we’d come to our senses a bit, you said the funniest thing.” Sue put her face in her hands, going bright red with embarrassed laughter. Jenny turned to the room. “She looked at me, all discombobulated form being snogged to within an inch of my life, and said - ‘so your interest in me isn’t just professional, then?’”

Their audience laughed with them, and Jenny reached out to hold Sue’s hand as they took a few more questions about how their relationship had affected their working practices. The end of their section was marked with warm applause and thanks, and Jim introduced Simon and Anthony, a cardiothoracic surgeon and theatre nurse respectively. Simon was fairly reserved, but his partner had an open, friendly style of communication that reminded Bernie a little of Serena.

Anthony told the group that he had always admired Simon from afar: he was a good looking man, and it was easy to see the attraction. Simon wasn’t the chattiest of colleagues, he said, but he was always kind and respectful, and Anthony had always enjoyed working with him. He told how he had begun to notice that they were frequently scheduled to work together, and when he mentioned it to Simon, he explained that he had asked to work with the nurse whenever possible.

“He told me that he thought we made a good team, and that he didn’t have to ask me half as often for equipment or whatever needed doing next, as we seemed to have developed an unspoken understanding. He was right - I really noticed it after that, and I saw that not everyone worked that way. It just seemed to come naturally to us though.”

He glanced at Simon, and they witnessed one of those moments of unspoken communication as they smiled at each other, until Simon blushed a little and looked away, the smile still on his handsome face.

“And the other thing - I tell you what, don’t let anyone tell you that you can hide behind a surgical mask! It just brings everything down to a pair of eyes and a voice - and that can get pretty intense. And just look at those eyes!”

Simon was bashful, but he obligingly batted his eyelids at the group, and Serena murmured to Bernie, “You could get lost in those, couldn’t you? I do like a pair of dark eyes.”

“What Anthony’s neglecting to mention is his terrible flirting over an open chest cavity,” Simon said once he’d regained his composure. “Somehow he managed to make the most innocuous things sound positively sultry! Never really suggestive or sleazy - don’t get me wrong, he was always respectful of the fact that there was a patient on the table - but he just has such a funny way of phrasing things, and then those mischievous eyes winking over the top of his mask - well, eventually one thing led to another, and -”

“And the anaesthetist told us to get a room!” Anthony interrupted. “The funny thing was, we really hadn’t realised we were doing it, but apparently there was a sweepstake on how long it would take us to get together. I think we’d known how much we liked working together, and of course I fancied the pants off him, but once it was out in the open - well, I think it took us both a bit by surprise, didn’t it?”

“So I suppose the moral of the story is that if you work well with someone in theatre, you might work _really_ well with them out of it, too!” Simon said. “We do still work together, and Anthony’s the nurse I would always choose to have in theatre with me - but we try and keep the flirting to a minimum now. But it was definitely a big part of our getting together - all that intense eye contact, learning to read each other. I think it’s partly why we communicate so well now.”

“And as one of our colleagues said when we told told her we’d got together, ‘well, you might as well: you’ve been having eye-sex long enough!’”

Serena leaned in and whispered, “ _Eye-sex?_ Is that a thing?”

Bernie shrugged. “Beats me - but I’m hardly an expert.”

“ _Au contraire_ \- surely your CV is very well balanced now? You must have a very good overall picture of things…”

“Oh, stop it!” They sniggered like a couple of schoolgirls, and the odd tension that Bernie had felt creeping up on her dissipated completely.

Jim introduced the final pair of speakers, a couple of women from Aberdeen. They were clearly nervous, and Jim took a more conversational interview style to help put them at their ease.

“Marie, would you like to tell us a bit about how you and Nisha met?”

Marie was particularly anxious, and her voice wobbled a bit as she talked about taking up a new post at the community health centre where they both worked, and striking up a comfortable but unremarkable working friendship with Nisha. “It was the first place I’d worked where they only knew me as Marie - they hadn’t met me before, hadn’t seen me transitioning, didn’t have all those preconceptions about what it all meant - and I didn’t think anyone knew about it. Well, I don’t think they _did_ , apart from HR, until a patient from my old practice registered with us - it was such a fluke. I’d moved hundreds of miles to make a new start, and the chances were… well, I just hadn’t counted on bumping into anyone who knew me - I was so unprepared for it.”

Jim smiled encouragingly at her. “That must have been a big shock for you. This patient - did they approach you? Or were you just - is _worried_ the right word? - that they might do?”

She laughed shakily. “Oh, I didn’t have time to worry about it - she came in to register, saw my name on the list and said ‘ooh, there was a Dr Sharman at my old GP in Sheffield - used to be a man, but takes all sorts, doesn't it…’ I was just the other side of reception, everyone heard it, and I could see people joining the dots in their minds. I was never big or thickset, and I know I can pass pretty well, but once the suggestion’s there, it’s not hard to see it, I know that. She wasn’t nasty about it, and she didn’t mean any harm - but it wasn’t my choice to put it out there, and that was hard to deal with.”

“It must have been,” Jim empathised. “Nisha, can you remember how you felt when you heard about it?”

Nisha was still holding Marie’s hand, and she squeezed it tightly. “I was there when it happened. It was… it was strange, it really was. Marie had been working with us for several months, and she was popular - a bit reserved, but friendly, and a good colleague. It was like she said, as soon as the idea was there, you could see it, and I’m ashamed to say it made us all think differently about her. There was a bit of nastiness - a couple of people were really awful about it - you know, the usual nonsense about toilet cubicles, but HR were really good, weren’t they, love?”

Marie nodded. “They were. And the partners, too - the senior partner did know already, actually, but he didn’t think it was an issue, which I really appreciated. Anyway, it got a bit - unpleasant, and I was really aware of people being so careful around me. I think a lot of it was just not knowing how to respond to me, and a few people were resentful that I hadn’t told them. Anyway, for whatever reason, everyone just sort of pulled back a bit and I started to feel really isolated. It wasn’t bullying, and it wasn’t nasty - well, mostly it wasn’t - but I just felt very alone. And then Nisha did the loveliest thing.”

“What was that? What did she do?”

Marie smiled at Nisha, and said very simply, “She touched me. I hadn’t realised how much physical space people had been giving me until then, but she made a point of touching my hand when we were talking, or taking my arm when we were walking along the corridor or to the car park, or she’d put an arm over my shoulder when she brought a chart for me to look at - nothing inappropriate, just those ordinary, everyday things you do when you’re not thinking about it. And once she started doing that, I could almost see other people relaxing about it as well. It was such a small thing, but it made such a big difference.”

Jim turned to Nisha and asked if it something she had made a deliberate decision to do.

Nisha shook her head. “Not really. I’ve always been a very tactile person, and I noticed myself holding back with Marie the day or two after that woman came in - just being a bit careful, you know? - so I had a word with myself and just tried to be my usual handsy self again!” Her laugh was infectious, and the group in the room seemed to release a held breath. 

Bernie glanced at Serena and was dismayed to see tears in her eyes. She leaned over and put a hand on her arm.

“You okay?”

Serena smiled and nodded. “Oh, I’m fine, just - well, it’s moving, isn’t it? How simple it is to change the way someone feels by just reaching out a hand?” They both looked down at Bernie’s hand where it was resting on Serena’s sleeve, and smiled.

“How are things for you at work now, Marie?” Jim asked.

“They’re good. There are a handful of patients who chose to leave the practice - because the partners wouldn’t let them choose not to see me. They wouldn’t let someone refuse treatment from Nisha because she’s from an Indian family, and they think it should be the same in my case - and I agree with them, though I’m sorry it’s lost us patients.”

“I’m not!” Nisha said firmly. “If you refuse treatment based on gender identity, or colour, or religion, or any of those things, you refuse treatment from any of us. If you’d rather stay sick than be treated by Marie - well, suit yourself! It's your funeral!”

“Hear hear!” Serena called out, and she wasn’t alone. Marie was practically glowing as the room erupted into warm applause.

“Oh, but that’s not the end of the story,” Nisha laughed. “I told you I was handsy, right? Well, it turns out that a back massage isn’t always just a back massage… I think we both surprised ourselves, didn’t we?”

“Did the relationship come as a surprise to you, Nisha? I mean, had you considered being with a woman before? Or, indeed, a trans woman?” Jim’s tone was interested and respectful.

“Do you know what, I don’t think I’ve ever considered things that specifically, you know? I don't think of myself as gay, or bi, or pan or whatever. I just think of myself as Nisha. And now I think of myself as Marie’s partner, too.”

Serena found herself next to Nisha and Marie as they queued for afternoon coffee before the keynote speech, and she chatted away to them warmly, telling them how much she had appreciated the insight into their story.

“It must be nice, being among a group of likeminded people for a few days,” she said, and was quite taken aback by the sceptical look the couple shared.

“You haven't been to one of these things before, have you?” Nisha said knowingly.

“Well - no, this is a first for me, certainly - but surely people here are supportive, aren’t they?”

“Some are,” Marie acknowledged. “Like you - I noticed you leading the cheers at our thing before - thank you, it really does mean so much. But not everyone’s like that, I’m afraid. There are plenty of people who think I shouldn't be here - and Nisha by extension, I suppose. You wouldn't think there was a T in LGBT sometimes,” she said sadly.

“That’s terrible!” Serena was shocked. “I don’t understand how people can be so… oh, I don’t know what they’re being, but I’m so, so sorry.” She gave Marie a quick hug, a hand rubbing her back for a moment or two before she stepped back, and gave Nisha’s arm a squeeze. “I’m glad you got a chance to tell your story this afternoon - it was very moving. Actually, I’m finding the whole thing a bit of an eye-opener.”

With an enquiring look, Nisha asked, “It’s your first time here, then?”

“First time anywhere like this if I’m honest. Bernie says I’ve to try and play it cool, so give me a quick nudge if you catch me looking all wide-eyed, won’t you,” she whispered confidentially.

“We’ll look out for you,” Marie laughed. “Bernie’s the gorgeous blonde woman you were sitting with earlier, I take it?”

“She is rather lovely, isn’t she? Oh - yes, two black coffees please.” She smiled at the pair as she took the drinks. “Well - I’m sure we’ll catch up again later. I’m Serena, by the way - Bernie and I are co-leads on AAU at Holby City.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Nisha exclaimed. “Introduce us later, won’t you?”

Serena nodded and smiled as she let them to order their drinks, but as she picked her way through the delegates back to where she had left Bernie, she shook her head with a little laugh. She had never heard AAU called sweet before. She couldn’t see it herself.

“There you go. Bernie, what’s all this nonsense about gay people not supporting trans people?”

Bernie look justifiably startled. “What?”

“I was talking to Marie and Nisha just now: they said they’ve not been made to feel very welcome by LGBT groups. I don’t get it - why would you not support each other? “

Bernie sighed. “Oh, that old rotten chestnut. Well - look, I’m really not a spokeswoman - but for what it’s worth, I don't think it’s a gay thing as much as a feminist - or so-called feminist thing. Some women have got the notion that you can’t be a woman unless you were born with the corresponding bits and doings - there’s a horrible expression I’ve heard used - ‘women born women.’ It’s used to exclude trans women from women’s spaces. You know, all the nonsense you hear about in the States, about trans women posing a threat by using women’s public toilets - like Nisha said?”

Serena rolled her eyes. “As if it’s safer for trans women to use men’s toilets? Please!”

“I know - it’s so ridiculous and cruel. The choices you must have to make before you transition - the family you stand to lose, the awful treatment you know you’re going to get from people, the ridicule… and people still think it’s about men invading women’s spaces. I find it really hard to garner any sympathy for movements or groups that are based on excluding people instead of including them.”

“Well, amen to that, sister! Let’s make sure we catch up with those two later, show a bit of solidarity.”

***

The keynote presentation was another eye-opener for Serena. Entitled _Physician, Heal Thyself_ , it gave a history of life as a gay doctor before the Wolfenden report and the subsequent, though long-delayed, decriminalisation of homosexual activity in the UK. Serena found herself in tears again at the testimony of doctors, psychologists and nurses who had been forced to choose between administering treatment they believed to be wrong and harmful or preserving their careers and their anonymity as gay men and women. It was a sobering revelation, and she said to Bernie afterwards that she hadn’t known what to expect from this conference, but it hadn’t been this.

“I just hadn’t thought about it - oh, how naïve I’ve always been about things like this! I just can’t imagine having to deliver that kind of treatment to Dom, or Lofty, or - oh, god, Bernie, or _you!_ How did they bear it?”

Bernie shrugged, tight-lipped. “The same way we did in the forces, I suppose. Though in the forces, it was women as well as men, of course.”

“Oh, Bernie, I -”

“No, no, it’s all right. Let’s not go into all of that - come on, let’s go and get a drink, then we can get settled upstairs. We’ve got a bit of time to ourselves now, thank goodness.”

A glass or two of Shiraz shook them both out of the gloom that had threatened to settle over them, and when she saw Nisha in the bar, Serena waved her and Marie over to join them. They chatted amicably for a while, and when the other pair left to go for a walk round the grounds, Bernie suggested they collect their luggage and settle into their room.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. I could just fancy a bath and a little lie down before the thing this evening - what?”

Bernie looked askance at her. “You’re planning to go to the social?”

“Of course! Why not? That’s what conferences are for, isn’t it? What’s the point of sitting through a day of presentations and workshops if you can’t get absolutely rat-arsed afterwards? And it doesn’t sound too bad - look. _Getting to know you: dinner, drinks and maybe more_. Well, we don’t have to do the maybe more bit, but dinner and drinks should be alright.”

Bernie didn’t look convinced, but she picked up her bag as well a couple of Serena’s without further comment, and started off to their room. She was halfway up the first flight of stairs when she realised Serena wasn’t next to her any more. She looked back over her shoulder to see Serena waiting for the lift. She shook her head and laughed. “Race you, then!”

Bernie was already standing in the doorway to the room when Serena caught her up, grumbling at the inefficient lift. “It actually went down to the basement before coming up again - and it stopped at every floor - what’s wrong?”

For Bernie hadn’t moved, and was still standing in the doorway, an anxious expression on her face.

“Did you - is this - I mean, what were the options when you booked the room?”

“I told you, I didn’t book it - what’s-her-name in HR did it all for us. Why, what’s - oh.” Ducking her head around Bernie’s shoulder, she saw the problem.

“Well, it looks as though What’s-her-name in HR thinks were a couple, doesn't it? You _did_ ask her to book the two of us on a big gay conference…”

“Well, on the plus side, it does look like a very comfortable bed.” Serena pushed through to the room and sat on the edge of the king sized bed. “It _is_ comfortable. And big enough that we needn’t bother each other, I should think. I don’t mind if you don’t?”

Bernie hesitated, and Serena tried to reassure her. “I mean, I wouldn’t share a bed with most of my colleagues, obviously - I wouldn’t want you to think that I’d jump into bed with any old… Well, I just mean, seeing as it’s you - oh, don’t look so _worried_ , Bernie. I’ll call down, get them to move us to a twin.”

“No, no - it’s fine, of course it’s fine. You don't need to do that, not if you really don’t mind. I doubt they’ll have any rooms left anyway - I think it’s fully booked with conference delegates. It’s fine, Serena, honestly.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure - it’s a lovely room otherwise, isnt’ it? Nice view of the garden, plenty of space - let’s have a look at the bathroom - oh, splendid. Bags the first bath?”

Bernie laughed. “Be my guest. Go ahead, I’ve brought a good book with me. Enjoy your bath.” She unpacked her few belongings and hung her clothes in the wardrobe while Serena ran the bath, then settled down in the comfortable armchair with her book. She tried desperately hard to focus on the story, and not to think about Serena getting undressed just the other side of the bathroom door. She gritted her teeth as she heard Serena’s groan of satisfaction as she slid into the warm water, and forced herself to keep her attention on her book. Some time later - she had no idea how much later - Serena emerged from the bathroom, wet-haired, glowing pink and wrapped in a towel. She glanced up briefly, then dragged her eyes back to her book.

“Nice bath?” she asked, her voice a little strained.

“Mm - lovely! I’ve saved the water for you if you want one too?”

Bernie pictured herself slipping into the water that Serena had been lying in until a moment ago, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second. 

“Might just have a shower, I think,” she said brightly, and jumped up to do just that.

She chose to take a rather colder shower than usual.


	4. Day One: Getting To Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the end of the first day at #GLDA18, but before Serena has time to properly process everything she’s heard today, there’s the social event to be got through - which turns out to be really not Bernie’s kind of thing...
> 
> Serena meets another of the “types” she identified earlier in the day - and has to call on Bernie to rescue her.

“Wow! You look - uh, you look…”

“Overdressed?” Serena asked anxiously.

“Maybe a little. I got the impression things were relatively low key this evening. At least, there’s still a formal dinner and dance to come on the the last evening, so maybe save that outfit for then. Have you got anything a bit more casual you could wear tonight?”

Serena looked a little disappointed, but she took Bernie’s point. “Oh, I’ve got plenty to choose from. I just fancied dressing up a bit, that’s all. What are you going to wear?”

Bernie looked at her dumbly and looked down at her black shirt and jeans. “Well - this. Is it not - do you think I need to change?”

“No, no! Wear whatever makes you comfortable - and you look effortlessly gorgeous whatever you wear, damn you. I just didn’t want to clash with whatever you’re wearing, but that gives me _carte blanche_ \- or should I say _carte noire?_ How about this?” She held up a fairly simple black cocktail dress and matched it with a silk scarf in shades of orange and rusty browns. 

“Perfect. What’s the time now? I think we’ve got about half an hour before this thing starts - you get changed, I’m just going to go and give Cameron a quick call. He starts a new placement tomorrow, I just want to wish him luck. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

By the time she returned to the room, having spoken to her son and sneaked in a crafty cigarette, Serena was just putting the finishing touches to her makeup. “Will I do?” She asked, wiping away a smudge of eyeliner.

“More than. You look lovely. I’ll have to keep an eye on you tonight, it’ll be like flies round a honeypot.”

Serena grimaced. “What a horrid thought. The flies, I mean, not… Anyway, I’m sure I won’t get any attention this evening, not with you looking all lean, mean and brooding in black. It will be me coming to _your_ rescue - though, of course you won’t necessarily _want_ rescuing, perhaps…” she trailed off uncertainly, but Bernie laughed it off.

“We’ll look out for each other, agreed? Come on, let’s go and slay, as Cameron has just advised us to do. I’ll warn you though, I’m hoping not to stay too long - I was hoping to have a bite to eat, a couple of drinks and as little networking as I can get away with - I could do with an early-ish night.”

But when they got downstairs, it transpired that their hosts had other ideas.

“What’s this? I thought tonight was meant to be informal?” said a bewildered Bernie. “This looks like an exam room!”

And indeed it did: row upon row of small tables set out, a chair on each side, pens and paper on each, and at the front of the room, what looked like an invigilator’s desk, complete with a bell.

“I’ve seen this set up before,” Serena said in a voice that any of her underlings would have recognised as a sign of trouble. “Siân made me do it once. It’s -”

“Hello, ladies, welcome to our speed dating night! Pick a row - you’ll see they’re labelled L, G, B and Q - go for whichever feels right for you!”

Serena and Bernie looked at each other in horror, but something suddenly caught Serena’s attention. “Why is there no T?”

The young woman with the clipboard stared uncomprehendingly at her. “Tea? You can ask at the bar, I suppose, I’m sure they’ll make you a cup of -”

“T!” Serena emphasised. “L! G! B! T! And Q and whatever else you want to chuck in - but it’s pretty bloody standard to include a T in the acronym LGBT, don’t you think?”

“Serena, it’s all right,” a gentle voice said, and she felt a hand on her sleeve. It was Nisha. “It wouldn’t really work anyway - the T is about your own gender rather than who you're attracted to - that’s our take on it, anyway - but I love that you went to bat for us.” 

Marie was at her side, and she smiled. “You’re such a good ally, Serena. We’re going to go with the Q row - not that it matters. We already know who we’re taking back to our room tonight - and so do you! Which row are you two going for?”

Aware that she probably looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, Serena looked desperately to Bernie, but she was just as tongue tied, and Serena pulled herself together.

“Is the Q for queer, or questioning, do you know? I’ve heard it used for both.”

Nisha shrugged. “It can be either - I’d probably go with queer in this instance - I think by the time people come to this thing they’re pretty confident about who they are. Oh - but is ‘questioning’ what it means for you? I wouldn’t worry about it too much anyway, it’s just a bit of fun.”

“Fun?” Bernie grumbled. “Not my idea of fun. Could I stay here and poke myself in the eye repeatedly instead?”

Serena nudged her heavily with her shoulder. “Oh, come on, grumpychops, let’s live a little. What are you going with, L? I’ll join you - safety in numbers, eh? I’ll hoot like an owl if I’m in trouble!” And she strode confidently to the row marked with a bold letter L, Bernie trailing reluctantly after her.

“Serena! Serena, wait!” Bernie hissed. She caught Serena’s elbow and pulled her back for a moment. “I don’t think this is one of your better ideas, do you? Let’s give it a miss, eh? Go and find somewhere with a decent wine list?”

“Scared I’ll get more phone numbers than you? It’ll be fine, and it can’t be for the whole night - we’ve been promised dinner, remember, so it can’t be more than ninety minutes or so of meeting interesting new people - that’s all it is.”

“Ninety minutes?” Bernie said faintly. “Oh god.”

***

It hadn’t been as bad as Bernie had expected, and she had indeed been offered several phone numbers, but she hadn’t given her own to anyone. A few of the women she had met had been perfectly lovely, but as her fourth partner pointed out, she had spent at least four out of their allotted five minutes gazing along the row to where Serena was holding court, and it was really impossible to imagine anyone else holding her attention. She had coasted through the rest of her matches so far, and had managed to get through it all without encouraging or offending anyone, as far as she could tell. She risked another glance at Serena now, and saw that the very glamorous woman that Serena was paired with was leaning across the table in a none too subtle display of her wares and talking very animatedly. She scowled and looked away, then swung her head round as she heard an owl hoot.

She head the incongruous sound again, and in a trice was on her feet and at Serena’s side, to hear her say, “Yes, I know it sounds funny, but it’s one of our little things - she loves me to hoot like an owl - oh, there you are, darling - I was just telling Cerys here about our silly little owl thing. Cerys didn’t know whether to believe that my partner was ex-Army - perhaps you can convince her, Major?”

There was no doubting Bernie’s posture as she bristled at the young woman, knowing she must have said or done something pretty far out of line for Serena to call her over. There was no mistaking the steel in her voice, either, as she said, “I don’t know why you’d doubt her - she’s hardly the sort of woman who needs to make up an imaginary partner, is she? Tell you what, Cerys, why don’t we swap places - you go and talk to Cathy back there. I’d like to spend a bit of time with my girl now, I think.” Her hand pressed Serena’s shoulder which was both reassuring and somehow proprietorial, and Cerys very wisely took Bernie’s advice. Bernie stood for a moment and watched her go, her hand still on Serena’s shoulder. She gave it a quick squeeze before slipping in to the chair the young woman had vacated.

“Are you okay? I thought you were joking about the owl thing?”

“Oh, I’m all right - she was just coming on really strong, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I thought, I wouldn’t put up with this from a bloke, I don’t see why I should put up with it from a woman, either. Honestly, you’d think women would be better about that sort of thing, wouldn't you?”

“I think what we’re learning today is that even lesbians can be bellends,” Bernie deadpanned.

Serena laughed. “Yes, I suppose we’re all capable of that. Listen, did you want to get back to - Cathy, was it? I hope you don’t mind me calling on you - I don’t want to cramp your style.”

“Hah! If only I had a style to cramp! I'd rather be with you than anyone else here,” Bernie said truthfully. “Look, would it simplify things if we were an item for the duration? Then if anyone asks, we’re together. You won’t need to make anything up, just tell them how we met, and ‘the rest is history’ - that always covers a multitude of sins.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Serena looked pathetically grateful. “I don’t mind being chatted up - not at all - but that last one was just draining. You did a splendid job, Major, I must say. Poor woman looked terrified. I thought you were going to tell her drop and give you twenty!”

Bernie smirked. “Well, that’s probably open to misinterpretation at this sort of do, don’t you think? Ow!” Serena had leaned across the table and swatted her.

“That’s no way to talk in front of your girlfriend! Oh, god, not again!” For the bell had dinged again, signifying time up for the current match. 

To their relief, the woman with the clipboard stood up and called out over the hubbub.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is time! Now, whoever you’ve ended up with on this round is your dinner date, so if you’d like to make your way through to the dining room and take your places, dinner will be served very shortly.”

Serena and Bernie looked at each other wide-eyed. “Thank goodness you hooted when you did! I’d have ended up with Cathy - who seems perfectly nice and utterly dull - and you’d be stuck with the bunny boiler all night.”

“I bloody wouldn’t!” Serena protested. “I’d have done a runner and dragged you with me. Anyway never mind that - we’ve got each other now.”

“Yes, Brown Owl.” Bernie saluted her, not with a regulation army snap, but with a three-fingered Brownie salute, earning her another swat.

***

They managed to find seats opposite Marie and Nisha: it was evident that not many people had stayed with the person they had last been matched with, and there had been a frantic swapping round as everyone made their way through to dinner. 

“It seems early in the conference for partner swapping, but…” Nisha laughed. “I see you managed to find each other again. How did you get on? Did you meet anyone nice?”

Serena rolled her eyes. “It was fun - mostly. I met some really nice women, actually. It was all very jolly and good natured until that last round - I ended up with someone who just wouldn’t be put off. I had to get Bernie to come and rescue me in the end! How about you?”

“Oh, a bit hit and miss to be honest. People tend to find both of us terribly exotic, for different reasons - it gets a bit tedious after a while, you know? But there were diamonds in the dust, weren’t there, Marie?

Marie nodded. “There were - there’s always an interesting mix of people at these things. So - how are you finding your first GLDA conference, Serena? It sounded before as though it’s your first experience of this kind of gathering.”

Serena nodded. “It is. I don’t think I’ve ever been in an exclusively LGBT space before - it’s really been quite an eye-opener so far, and not at all what I was expecting. I think the keynote talk will stay with me for a long time - and your story, too. I think we all need reminding from time to time what the world looks like from someone else’s perspective, don’t we?”

“We do,” Marie agreed. “It’s quite hard to share that sometimes, when you know that you’re going to get some ugly reactions to it, but I think it’s really important to do it anyway, give people a chance to get used to hearing our voices. Looking at the programme, I think I’m the entire trans element of the conference - but that’s better than last year, when there was nothing. Maybe next year someone will invite their trans colleagues along because they saw me here this time - it’s the kind of thing that has to snowball, I think, and it has to start with someone standing up to be counted. Representation matters.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Nisha, and they did just that, raising their glasses, the four of them.

“Representation matters.”

Bernie knocked back her drink and stretched a little as she set her glass back down on the table. “Well,” she said, ”on that profound note, I’m going to hit the hay, I think. Long day today, long day tomorrow. Are you going to stay up and chat, Serena?”

“I could sit and talk to you two all night,” Serena smiled, “but Bernie’s right - and we’ve got the rest of the conference to come still - plenty of opportunities to get together and natter. See you at breakfast? Goodnight.”

As she followed Bernie to the stairs, Serena just heard Nisha murmur to Marie, “They’re such a lovely couple, aren’t they?” and she smiled. It actually felt quite nice to be thought of as part of a whole with Bernie, and to be so easily accepted. She didn’t want to deliberately mislead their new friends, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to disabuse them of the notion.

She caught up to Bernie and they made their way to the hotel room together, Bernie holding the door open for Serena. 

“Do you know, Bernie, I’ve really enjoyed today - much more than I thought I would. I think we picked the right session, don’t you? Lots to think about…” She trailed off as she remembered some of the specific things that had given her pause for thought: those medicinal pastries that Jenny and Sue had given each other while they were falling in love; the intense rapport that Anthony and Simon had developed in theatre, and the touches that Nisha had found she couldn’t resist bestowing on Marie… Oh, yes: there was plenty to think about there. She gave a little shiver.

“Do you mind if I go through the bathroom first? I won’t be long.” 

She slipped quickly into the little _en suite_ before Bernie had a chance to reply, and looked at herself thoughtfully in the mirror. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Serena Wendy?” she asked her reflection - but it wasn’t giving anything away. She cleaned the makeup off her face with a couple of wipes, and splashed cold water on her face. She looked at herself again. Still no clues, though perhaps she looked a little softer, a little less guarded. “Silly thing, you,” she berated herself. “It needn’t mean anything.” As she cleaned her teeth and finished off in the bathroom, she tried very hard not to listen to the little voice that kept saying, “unless you want it to…”

“All yours,” she said as she came back out into the bedroom. “Do you have a preference for a particular side? Of the bed, I mean? I tend to gravitate towards this side,” she said, patting the mattress, “But I don’t really mind.”

Bernie, already changed into pyjamas, shook her head. “I don’t mind either way - you know us rufty-tufty army types, we can sleep anywhere. You take that side, I’ll be quite happy here.”

Bernie was quick getting through the bathroom, and Serena had barely had time to change and settle into bed before Bernie cracked the door open with a a cautious, “You decent?”

“As I’ll ever be. I was right, it’s ever such a comfy mattress. I think I’ll be asleep as soon as the light goes out. Thanks for a lovely day, Bernie - I’m glad we came.”

But once Bernie put the light out on her side, Serena lay awake, listening to her breathing evening out, and thinking again about all the little threads of the day that were weaving themselves into an image, and she thought about how nice it had felt for Nisha and Marie to think of her and Bernie as a couple. When she eventually fell asleep, it was with a soft smile on her face.


	5. Day Two: Caught In The Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the seminars in the morning of day two are useful, the breakout sessions are even worse than on the first day. Neither Serena nor Bernie can face the very niche interest sessions, and they decide to provide their own entertainment - with a little help from some new friends.
> 
> And the thin line between their friendship and their pretended relationship is starting to look just a little blurry...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have been enjoying the seminar and workshop titles, and here credit must go to the devious minds that helped put the conference programme together. If you ever want a good pun - or even a bad one - you could do much worse than ask for help from (in alphabetical order) @gratiaplena, @kooili, @shirazkindofgirl, @squishmitten and @wonko. What a litter of sick puppies!
> 
> Thanks guys! ;-)

Bernie was up and dressed, and indeed, had already been for a swim in the hotel pool downstairs by the time Serena rolled out of bed the next morning. Breakfast was a congenial affair, and by the time they moved through to the lecture theatre, Serena was positively looking forward to whatever day two might hold in store.

The morning’s sessions were actually quite useful, Serena thought. The talks either side of coffee focussed on navigating the legal and moral mazes created by romantic workplace relationships, with the added layers of complexity introduced by other people’s attitudes towards same sex relationships, and the legislation to support people with the various protected characteristics, including sexuality and gender identity. None of it was entirely new to Serena, but as she had found the previous day, seeing things from this different perspective really did throw things into a different light for her, and she scribbled down copious notes to jog her memory when she returned to work. There would be conversations to be had with HR, she thought, and she was getting a clear message that she needed to challenge unacceptable language and behaviour whenever she noticed it. She was uncomfortably aware that while she adhered to the letter of the law, she had never really thought about the impact of all those little comments and jokes on the individual. “Could do better,” she had noted down next to several points, and she resolved to do just that.

A lighter note was struck in the pre-lunch session for those who opted for the women’s strand (already Serena was schooling herself not just to think in terms of _women_ and _men_ as two binary options). Entitled _Sapphic sisters: should doctors play with nurses?_ , it was delivered by a panel of three just such couples, mediated by a Human Resources officer, who nevertheless was perfectly lovely. It took the form of a shlock daytime talk show, and each couple was introduced with such overblown captions as “My boss seduced me over a perforated bowel!” and “I slept with my own (ward) sister!” and Serena’s personal favourite, “She proposed to me - with her hand inside another woman!” the other woman, of course, had been under anaesthetic at the time, and Nkechi had proposed almost accidentally to her partner as they worked together on the hysterectomy.

The session had them in hoots of laughter, but Serena and Bernie both blanched a little when Mark, who had been playing the role of Jeremy Kyle, explained that the frank discussion had been something of a taster for the afternoon’s breakout sessions, which would focus on interprofessional relationships, as well as some of the more… specific activities where work and play might coincide. They looked over the sessions in horror.

“Well, _Damn the Dentals: interprofessional liaison_ doesn’t look too bad, I suppose… and this one might have some funny stories - though it also sounds like a bad case of Too Much Information.”

“Which one?” Bernie craned her neck over Serena’s shoulder to look at the programme, following Serena’s finger as she underlined _Coming Out of the (Supply) Closet: the dangers of getting carried away in the workplace_.

“Eh. I’d rather not go to that, if it’s all the same to you - still a bit of a sore point, the whole coming out at work thing.” 

Serena smiled at her sympathetically. “Well, that’s fair enough. It doesn’t leave us with many options though. We might have to toss a coin between _Let’s Just Whip it Out: is there a place for BDSM at work?_ \- no, is the only possible answer to that, I think you’ll find - and… where are we, let’s see - oh god.” She winced, unable to bring herself to read it out.

“Let’s have a look - oh, no. No, no, no.”

For Bernie had followed Serena’s appalled gaze to read the disturbing title, _When Work is Also Your Hobby: chiropody and the foot fetishist_.

“I thought this was a professional conference!” Serena exclaimed. “Do you suppose anyone gets up to all this sort of thing at Holby? I mean, I know all about the usual linen cupboard fumbling, of course - but - well, what do you reckon - do you think those stirrups in Obs and Gynae get a bit of non-regulation use? Elective traction on Orthopaedics? The mind boggles!”

“It does rather, doesn’t it? What’s the last one - on the next page, look.”

Serena peered at the programme again, and read out in a slightly puzzled tone, “ _Nimble Fingers, Short Nails: the advantages of dating a surgeon_. Well, nimble fingers I can understand, but short nails?” She looked at Bernie in mild confusion. Bernie, to her credit, pressed her lips together and withheld comment until Serena had worked it out for herself. “Oh - whoops, yes. Not something I’ve had to think about, to be honest. Men don’t tend to have long nails as a rule, so…”

Bernie leaned in, nudging Serena’s shoulder, wiggled her fingers and whispered, “Neither do most surgeons,” and they burst out laughing.

“Oh, dear - do we really have to go to any of these? Do you think anyone would notice if we skived off this afternoon?” Serena kept her voice down as she looked around to make sure no-one could overhear her.

“You have the best ideas. Let’s have our free lunch first, though - the food’s not bad here, is it?”

“Not to mention the wine - speaking of which, let’s go an bag a table and a bottle.”

***

They ended up sharing a table with Kerry, the nurse who had been seduced over a perforated bowel and her partner Maggie. They had all met briefly in various combinations during the speed dating event the previous night, and they shared the wine and the conversation quite happily.

“Have you decided which of the breakout sessions you’re going to go to?” Maggie asked, leaning over to refill Kerry’s glass.

Bernie and Serena glanced at each other, then Serena said in a conspiratorial whisper, “We’re not. We’re going to play hooky. They’re all a bit too… specific, shall we say?”

Maggie laughed, and put their minds at rest. “I think a lot of people will do the same - they really are special interest groups, aren’t they? Don’t worry, the organisers know a lot of people won’t have the stomach for it, and they won’t be expecting a full turnout. What are you going to do instead?”

Bernie shook her head. “We haven’t decided. A bit of sightseeing, maybe? Did you want to go shopping, Serena?”

“Not really. I’ll only have to carry it round all afternoon if I do.”

“Oh, what’s the point of having a tall, strong, handsome girlfriend if you can’t give her things to carry?” Maggie winked at Bernie, who smiled weakly in return.

“Bad back,” she offered in self defence.

“Well, that’s you off the hook, I suppose. We’re going to see what the coming out session’s like, but I think we’ll stick at that one. Will we see you at the Shag Tag thing tonight?”

“The _what?_ " 

Serena and Bernie spoke as one, and their expressions matched as well, a blend of bewilderment, amusement and distaste.

Laughing at their reaction, Kerry confirmed, “You heard me right, I’m afraid. You wear a badge with a number on it - that’s your shag tag. If you see someone you’re interested in getting to know a bit better - or if you just want to pass on a flirty message - you write a note to that number and pin it up on the board. Oh, I expect it’s done digitally now.”

“It is - you register your shag tag number against your own mobile, then you get a text from your secret admirer without giving away either of your phone numbers,” said Maggie. “There’s a feed on the big screen, too, which sort of adds to the fun - you get to see what everyone’s saying to and about everyone else.”

Bernie shuddered, and said “I don't know what would be worse - getting messaged, or _not_ getting messaged! I think that’s officially me done for the day - no S &M breakout sessions, and no shag tags, thank you very much. Unless - did you want to go to the evening thing, Serena?” She turned pleading eyes to Serena: it sounded like a fate worse than death to her, but if Serena wanted to play along, then she would be there to make sure she was all right.

“Ugh, no. Not my style at all, and I think I’ve had enough of being ogled for a while. Let’s give ourselves permission to do something a bit more grown up - go somewhere nice for dinner, see if we can get tickets for a show or something - what do you say, Major?”

“I say, thank goodness for that! Sounds awful. The theatre sounds good - let’s sneak out after lunch and head into town - see if we can pick up some tickets, then go for a walk in Hyde Park or somewhere before the show. Oh, and food.”

Maggie winked at Serena. “Dinner and a show as well as all her other attributes - I’d say you’ve got yourself a keeper there, Serena!”

Serena smiled fondly at Bernie, who was bashfully pushing the last spoonful of her pudding round the bowl and agreed with Maggie. “I certainly hope so - I’d be lost without her,” and as Bernie cautiously looked up at her, Serena’s smile was so genuine that Bernie forgot for a moment that they weren't really together.

“The feeling’s quite mutual. I’d share a perforated bowel with you any day of the week. In fact, I'd go further - the next pseudo-aneurism of the splenic artery I get - you’re scrubbing in with me. Date?”

Serena laughed, and reached over to cover Bernie’s hand with her own, giving it a little squeeze. “It’s a date. How could anyone resist an offer like that, hmm? Better than roses and chocolate any day.”

“But not Shiraz,” said Bernie with a wink. “I know where I stand in the pecking order.”

“Throw in a bottle of Shiraz and it will quite literally be my dream date. However, a walk, dinner and a West End show sounds like a pretty close second - shall we sneak out while we can?”

***

Two tube journeys and less than an hour later, two tickets to a show were safely stowed in Serena’s handbag. They had bumped into Marie and Nisha in the queue for tickets at Leicester Square.

“My goodness,” Serena exclaimed. “We really _are_ all out and about. Do you suppose _anyone’s_ actually gone to _Fellating a Physio_ or whatever it was?”

Bernie laughed her great generous honk of a laugh. “The terrible thing is that it doesn’t even sound made up next to the ones we’re missing this afternoon. _Fellating a physio_. You are awful, Serena.”

“But you like me, I know. Could have been worse. How about _Suction, please! On-demand services in the NHS?_ ”

“Oral fixation, is it, Campbell? All right, then _\- Lost in translation: sometimes you just need a cunning linguist_ ,” Bernie shot back.

Marie and Nisha joined in, and the four of them grew increasingly hysterical as the list of obscene sessions grew longer.

 

“ _Scrubbers in scrubs: are_ all _nurses nymphomaniacs?_ ”

“ _Call the midwife - it’s got stuck up there again!_ ”

“S _adists in surgery: if it ain’t hurting, it ain’t working._ ”

“ _Handcuffs and half nelsons: getting physical with security services."_

_“Stiffs and stiffies - fun and games in the morgue_?”

 

There was a stunned silence, as the four paused for a moment to wonder if they had gone too far. It was clear from the expressions on the faces of their neighbours in the queue that _they_ certainly thought so - but Bernie was the first to crack, and her laugh finished the rest of them off.

“Nisha! I wouldn’t have thought it of you - you seem like such a sweet, innocent little thing!” Serena wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

“It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for, isn’t it,” Marie said, nudging her partner’s shoulder.“Look at her - butter wouldn’t melt, would it? Face like an angel - mind like a sewer.”

“I’ve never heard you complain, my darling. Oh, we’re nearly at the front. Have you decided what you want to see yet? We’re hoping for the ballet - it was what I wanted to do when I was a little girl, but my parents are Indian like you wouldn't _believe_. They handed me two envelopes when I was thirteen and choosing my O levels, and said ‘pick one’ - the one I picked had a card with one word written on it - medicine. Guess what the other one said?”

“Was it ‘law,’ by any chance? Shame - you’d make a marvellous ballerina with your figure, and just think what a trailblazer you’d have been! At least we’re starting to see a bit more diversity now. Well, I hope you manage to get the tickets you want. My daughter’s recommended two or three shows - she’s the theatrical type, as I know to my cost - we’ll see which has got the best seats available and go from there.”

“Well, enjoy whatever you end up with - see you later!”

Nisha and Marie got their ballet tickets without any trouble, and after a brief consultation, Serena and Bernie chose a show based on Elinor's recommendations, Serena’s preferences, and Bernie’s complete acquiescence.

“Good - that’s that sorted out. Oh, I’m looking forward to this. Elinor was a _little_ bit scornful about this one - she seems to think she ought to look down on anything that’s popular and enjoyable rather than impenetrable and punitive - cheeky little madam said ‘this might be more your sort of thing, Mum,’ as though I don’t know my Brecht from my Ibsen, but I think it looks like tremendous fun. Now then, Major - you promised me a walk in the park. Lead on!”


	6. Day Two: Afternoon Delight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having fully committed to bunking off the conference for the afternoon, Bernie takes Serena on something of a magical mystery tour around one of the swankier parts of London. Over a glass of wine, Serena muses over some of the ways her eyes have been opened by the conference, and Bernie finds the perfect way of helping her understand things.

“Where are we going? I thought you wanted to go to Hyde Park?”

Bernie looked back over her shoulder to see Serena standing behind her, looking in confusion at the tube map. 

“I had a better idea - one we can pass off as being work-related at a push. Come on - we can get this one. Hop on!”

Serena dutifully hopped. As they neared South Kensington and Bernie got ready to alight, Serena had an inkling about where they were headed.

“Aha! You’re taking me to the Natural History Museum, aren’t you!”

“Nope. Guess again.”

“Hmm, the V&A isn’t really work-related… the Science Museum?”

Bernie shook her head as they stepped down onto the platform, and she tugged Serena by the hand. 

“Not that way - we’re not going up to the street, just changing lines. This way. We could walk from here, actually, but I don’t feel like traipsing about too much if that’s alright with you? There _are_ some lovely bits of Hyde Park, but I thought we could do something on a smaller scale, make sure we give ourselves plenty of time to eat and get a drink before the show. Do you give in? Shall I tell you where I had in mind?”

She could tell Serena was torn, and she suspected that the only thing keeping her from asking was the competitive streak in her that wanted to guess and be right. She guided her onto the next train while she was deliberating.

“You’ll have to decide quickly, Serena - we’re only going one stop on this one.”

Serena looked up at the map in the carriage.

“One stop - Sloane Square? What on earth are we going to do there - put on our pearls and Hermès scarves and go for a nice white wine spritzer?” At Bernie’s blank look, she rolled her eyes and explained, “Sloane Rangers - don’t you remember? Seventies, eighties, I don’t know - Lady Di and so on. Oh, I expect you were out in the desert somewhere, or doing an obstacle course in four feet of mud.”

“Ha! Quite possibly. But no, no pearls required for where we’re going. Here we are - off we get.”

They walked down past any number of restaurants and boutiques, and on past the Royal Chelsea Hospital, where a couple of the pensioners nodded to them from where they sat sunning themselves in the courtyard. Serena threw a smile at a particularly cheery old soul in his tricorn hat and red tunic, and catching sight of a sign to the Royal Army Museum as she turned round, she tried to hide her dismay.

“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t have guessed this… Have you been before? I wouldn’t want you to be bored if it’s revisiting old ground for you…”

Bernie laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to subject you to that. Or myself, either, come to that. Not much further - it’s just round the corner here - ah! There we are - does that pique your interest a bit more?”

Serena took one look at the sign outside their destination and turned to Bernie with bright eyes and an even brighter smile, and clutched her hand.

“Oh, you clever thing - how did you know? I’ve always wanted to come here!”

“Well, I know you’ll find it hard to believe, but I do occasionally listen to you. You've talked about it a few times - this seemed like as good a time as any to come.”

Still holding Bernie’s hand, Serena pulled her along and through the wrought iron gates of the Chelsea Physic Garden, and proceeded to ooh and aah over plants for the next two hours or so. It was impressive - much larger than Bernie had expected in this expensive part of London, and far more interesting than she had anticipated, too. She didn’t particularly share Serena’s passion for gardening, but the displays of plants arranged by their purpose caught her imagination, and she found herself drawn in by Serena’s enthusiasm.

They spent a happy hour or two wandering through the gardens, from the greenhouses - which were far too humid for Bernie, to the cool fernery with its gently rilling water features, to the historical walk paying tribute to the gardeners and botanical explorers who had been associated with the Garden down the years. As the afternoon sun grew hotter, they took shade in the little woodland walk before enthusiastically tackling the garden of “edible and useful plants” - including, to Serena’s delight, a bed celebrating plants that went into the making of alcoholic drinks: juniper for gin, heather for ale, and all kinds of plants that attracted bees to make honeyed mead. Best of all were the numerous grape vines, though to her chagrin, there was no Shiraz.

But it was the medicinal garden that was the real showpiece, and they spent most of their time wandering through the rows and beds, remarking on what now seemed like the naivety of their early predecessors, who prescribed plants that looked like the part of the body requiring healing, so that pulmonaria, with its lobed and speckled leaves, was used to treat disorders of the lung, and so on. They marvelled at the beds dedicated to world medicine, noting how different cultures had found such diverse, and sometimes, such similar solutions to human ailments. And in the garden featuring the medicinal plants of the British Isles, showcasing plants grown, studied and used by apothecaries since the seventeenth century, they recognised the beginnings of modern medicine, which was carried through to the pharmaceutical garden, a reminder that at least a quarter of the chemical compounds they used and took for granted were plant based, from disciplines as varied as oncology and dermatology.

“Of course, when I was out in the jungle, we used to chew quinine bark against malaria, and willow twigs as a painkiller,” Bernie said gravely, and completely straight-faced. Serena looked at her wide-eyed. 

“Really? The army put you in situations where you had to rely on twigs and bark? That's extraordinary!”

Bernie couldn’t keep it up, and she shoved Serena with her shoulder. “For someone who’s acted as CEO of a major hospital, you are altogether too gullible. Of course not - our kits were stuffed with anti-malarials and pain relief. And for the record, I’ve never served in a jungle environment. Arid zones are more my speciality.”

“Oh, you beast! I can’t believe I fell for that. I’ll get you back, just you wait. Oh, I could stay here forever - but I think it’s one to come back to again and again, don’t you? I’d like to come back later in the year and see how it changes. You’ll come with me again, won’t you?”

Bernie smiled. “I’d love to. I wasn’t sure what I was going to make of it - never been much of a gardener, not like you, but it’s so interesting. Then we could go to the other place I thought of for this afternoon. Did you know there’s a working winery near Earl’s Court? I thought we might go and do a tasting there, but they didn't have room at short notice.”

“You really do know me well, don’t you? Gardens and wine - what could be better. I think Maggie was right - you’re definitely a keeper.” And Serena squeezed Bernie tightly in a fierce hug that lasted a brief moment, but left Bernie feeling ten feet tall. “Thank you - it’s been such a lovely surprise. But speaking of wine - shall we?”

They walked back along the Embankment, enjoying the sights and sounds of the Thames in all its glory, and making up stories about people they passed. Serena slipped her arm into Bernie’s as they walked, and if any of their fellow conference delegates had seen them, they would have seen nothing to disabuse them of the notion that they were indeed a very happy couple.

They ended up not far from Covent Garden, having taken the tube once they had tired of the walk, and they found a wine bar that Serena said had been calling to her all day. Unusually for Serena, they had ordered by the glass, for as she said, they would undoubtedly have a glass or two with their meal, and she didn’t want to fall asleep during the show.

“This conference - it’s not turning out too badly after all, is it?” She said to Bernie.

“Well, we’re currently guzzling Shiraz when we should be discussing what we get up to in the broom cupboard, so… I don’t know, does that mean it’s going well or not?”

“Apart from that, I mean. It’s more relevant than I thought it was going to be, and I am genuinely learning from it - I mean, all the HR stuff has been good, and for me, there’s been a lot of seeing things in a different light, or a different context, I suppose - making the policies seem more about people, which I think has to be a good thing. But it’s not just that. It’s meeting people and hearing their stories - it’s really making me think about it all in a way I’ve never really been pushed to think before. It’s good for me, I think.”

Bernie looked at her curiously. “Think about things? How do you mean? You’ve always seemed perfectly accepting of everything to me.”

Serena sighed, unable to express exactly what she meant. “Well, that’s not quite true, is it? I wasn’t very accepting of you when you were outed, to my eternal shame.”

“Oh, but that wasn’t really about me being with a woman, though, was it? That was about what I’d done to Marcus, and about not having told you myself. Wasn’t it?” Bernie finished a little uncertainly, wondering if there was something she had missed.

“Well, yes, it was. But now I think - why couldn't I see how different it was for you? Because it wasn’t about having an affair for you, was it? I know that now, but I think I should have been more open minded to why you were with Alex - the difference for you , the - oh, why can’t I express myself?”

Bernie reached across the table and squeezed her arm. “Serena, Serena - don’t be so hard on yourself. Please don’t beat yourself up about it - there’s nothing to blame yourself for. You learned something new about a friend, and it just took you a little while to get your head round it, that’s all.”

“I suppose it’s more that I’ve struggled to understand how it was different for you - I mean, how you knew you were missing a part of who you were. Because there must have been _something_ , some rapport with Marcus for you to have married him, wasn’t there?”

“There was - of course there was,” Bernie acknowledged. “And I thought it was enough for the longest time. And even when it wasn’t really enough, I just thought, well, that’s how it goes. Because it does, for a lot of people, doesn’t it? It fizzles out, dampens down, settles into something a bit… I don’t know, pedestrian. But it didn’t occur to me that it was because there something so fundamental missing from it until Alex and I… well, until Alex.”

Serena ran a finger round the rim of her glass, over and over in a hypnotic sort of movement, her eyes gazing into the deep red heart of the wine.

“But how could you not have realised that it was missing?” She looked up sharply at Bernie for a moment, shaking her head in frustration. “I’m sorry, it sounds like an accusation, and it’s really not. I just wonder… didn’t you feel somehow _empty_ until you realised what it was?”

Bernie could see how hard Serena was trying to understand, though she wasn’t sure why it was causing her quite so much anxiety. She cast about for a way to explain how it had felt for her, that realisation coming so late in her life. Something caught her eye at a neighbouring table, and it fell into place.

“Do you like champagne?” She asked abruptly, the sudden change of subject taking Serena quite by surprise.

“Champagne? What? It’s all right - I can drink it, but I wouldn’t necessarily choose - why, did you want to order a bottle?”

“No - but don’t you see? Everyone tells you that champagne is the best drink, the one to aspire to, the thing you drink to say ‘I’ve made it,’ whatever it is - but what if you try it, and you can drink it, it’s okay, but you can’t really see what all the fuss is about? Then imagine trying your first sip of Shiraz…”

Serena’s expression cleared, and her brow seemed to lighten as the most perfect analogy Bernie could have come up with struck home.

“But you didn’t miss it before, because you didn’t know it was there to miss? As simple as that?”

“I think so, yes. At least, it was for me. I think I knew I wasn't too bothered about champagne, so to speak, but it didn’t occur to me that there was an alternative until someone handed me a glass of Shiraz.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so before! That makes perfect sense to me now!”

Bernie inclined her head gravely and vowed, “From now on, I shall explain everything to you in terms of Shiraz. It’s clearly your natural learning style.”

“Cheeky. Well, here’s to Shiraz, and whoever hands it to you.” Serena raised her glass, and Bernie met it with her own, unsure if they were toasting the wine or what it stood for, but glad that she seemed to have set Serena’s mind at rest.

***

Bernie had booked for an early dinner at a small restaurant down a side street between Covent Garden and the theatre, and were shown to a table for two tucked away between a twisted hazel tree in a large pot and a living wall of mosses and ferns.

“This is so lovely - have you been here before?”

Shaking her head, Bernie said, “No, I just did a quick search at the hotel. You can spend ages plodding round from one place to another in central London if you’re not careful - I thought it would be better if we just had somewhere booked, save all that decision making. I hope it’s all right?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful to let someone else make the decisions! And this is quite the find, isn't it? I must make a note of it, come here again. I like it - if you’d described the decor to me I would have had my doubts, but it really works, doesn’t it?”

The walls were a very dark grey, and with the tan leather seats and the dim lighting, it could have felt very dull, almost like an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club, but the abundance of plants lifted it and made it into a secret indoor garden. Their table felt secluded, almost like a nest, and Serena thought to herself that she could quite happily spend the whole evening here, looking across the table at Bernie, chatting comfortably, as they had been doing all day.

“I’m glad you like it. You never know quite what you're going to get, do you, but it had good reviews, which seem to be well-deserved. How’s the fish?”

“Delicious - I love it like this, so simply served. There's nowhere for bad ingredients or bad cooking to hide when you have this sort of food. It reminds me of my grandmother’s cooking in France when I was much younger. I’ve got into bit of a rut when it comes to eating out these days - I always seem to default to Italian, which I do enjoy, but what a treat to come to a really decent French restaurant for a change! You’ve really spoiled me today, Bernie. I do appreciate it, you know.” 

Her smile in the light from the candle on their table was a beautiful sight, and Bernie couldn’t help but return it.

“You deserve a treat. You’ve done well with this conference - risen to the occasion, I’d say. It sounds as though you’re managing to bring away lots of positives despite everything, and I don’t think anyone suspects a thing as far as you and I are concerned - you’ve pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. I’ll have to watch you - you’re all too convincing for my liking: who knows what other pretences you’ve been keeping up all this time!”

She smiled and gave a little half wink to show she was joking, but even as she joined in the laughter, looking at Bernie so relaxed and happy, Serena wondered whether she was really pretending at all.


	7. Day Two: Confined To Theatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena and Bernie's perfect day off continues into the evening as they enjoy a night at the theatre. A walk in a moonlit park seems like the perfect end to a perfect day, but when they get back to the hotel, Serena realises that Bernie is in pain, and won't hear of her waiting until they get back to Holby for treatment.

The Apollo Victoria was a splendid theatre, much grander than the surrounding area suggested, with building work going on everywhere. They had cut it a little fine so they went straight to their seats in the stalls, and only had a few minutes to wait until the safety curtain went up. They sat back as the music, the intricate set design, the fantastical costumes and above all, the songs of Elphaba, Galinda and the whole cast of _Wicked_ transported them to an Oz before Dorothy and Toto arrived to spoil things. 

Serena, who knew _The Wizard of Oz_ only too well from endless viewings and re-viewings with a young Elinor, was delighted at the cleverness of it all and the way strands from the better known story were referenced and foreshadowed while a totally new story was told around them. Bernie had seen the film, of course, and there were moments that seemed to ring a bell, but she was happy just to enjoy the story for what it was in itself: two very different girls being thrown together, experiencing mutual and unadulterated loathing, then coming to find a reluctant but genuine friendship with each other in spite of their differences. The actors in those main roles had such good chemistry that there was an almost electrical frisson in the theatre each time they clashed or grated, and the whole audience seemed to relax as they grew closer and more comfortable with each other. With a sideways glance at Bernie, Serena thought it wasn’t so different from their own theatre: a bad fit between surgeons could have the whole theatre on edge, whereas when she and Bernie worked together, everything seemed to flow so harmoniously.

Bernie herself was rapt, leaning forward slightly in her seat and totally absorbed in the action on the stage. It had been a long time since she’d been to the theatre, and she couldn’t remember when she’d last seen a musical. Marcus had always wanted to go to highbrow things, which she had appreciated but not necessarily enjoyed, but this was such a different experience. She found herself holding her breath, starting in her seat at the sudden twists and turns of the story, and making a little “ _oh_ ” of dismay at Dr Dillamond’s troubles. Serena clutched at her hand during _Something Bad_ , and their clasped hands lay on Bernie’s thigh until the applause at the end of the song. When the house lights came up after the show-defining _Defying Gravity_ , it took a few moments for her to adjust to being back in the theatre, rather than in the Emerald City, and she and Serena looked at each other with matching smiles and shining eyes.

During the interval, Bernie shouldered her way through the crowd to the bar, and returned with a glass of bubbles for herself and a Shiraz for Serena.

“I thought you were strictly a Shiraz girl now,” Serena winked.

“Hah! Metaphorical Shiraz, yes. I do still like a glass of actual champagne now and again. It seems like the thing to have at the theatre, somehow. Actually, I think the theatre might be the new Shiraz for me - or at least musical theatre. I’m converted. Isn't it _good?_ ”

“Oh, I’m enjoying it enormously. I haven’t seen a big show like this for a long time. Well, if you’re serious about it, maybe we should plan to do this again sometime?”

They spent the rest of the interval talking animatedly about the show, and which other productions they might come back to see, and by the time the second act started, they had drawn up quite a wish list. As the cast took their final bow at the end of the show, both Bernie and Serena were surreptitiously wiping away tears, and a second visit to the Apollo to see _Wicked!_ again went on the list.

Coming out of the theatre afterwards, Serena turned to Bernie. “Well, I know that musical theatre is famously… flamboyant, shall we say, and that this particular one has the obvious connection to the original ‘Friends of Dorothy’ thing, but - was it just me, or was that a bit gayer than originally expected?”

“The kiss, you mean? I don’t know, I didn’t know the show before this evening. It did seem to be where it was naturally heading with those two - what do they call it - enemies to friends to lovers?”

“Who calls it that?”

“Oh, you know, it’s just a trope in films and fiction - like a meme or something. You get two people being thrown together by, say, getting stranded in the snow and having to huddle together for warmth, or hurt-comfort, where one’s injured and the other has to look after them and it makes them realise they’re in love… why are you looking at me like that?”

“Who’s been telling you about memes and tropes? Is that Cameron again?”

“No! I do have a basic awareness of popular culture, thank you very much.”

“You have an over-awareness of hashtags, I can tell you that. You don’t need to start every sentence in every text message with one, you know. Enemies to friends to lovers - yes, I suppose that’s what it was, but it’s not what I expected from Elinor, who of course told me every last detail about all the shows she thought we might see - no notion about spoilers, that girl.”

“Now who’s flaunting their pop culture knowledge?”

“Hmm? Oh, spoilers? Only because of _Doctor Who_ , of which I now have encyclopaedic knowledge, thanks to Jason. It's a running gag with the Doctor’s wife, about not giving him spoilers about their life together.”

“The Doctor’s wife? Oh, River Song. Mmm.”

Serena turned a sharp eye on her. “Oh, tell me you’re not a Doctor Who fanatic as well!”

Bernie shot her a sly look, and said primly, “I am not unfamiliar with the works of Alex Kingston, let’s just put it like that.”

Serena laughed, slipping her arm though Bernie’s again, as she had done on the Embankment earlier that day.

“So that’s your type, is it? A sassy mature woman with ample assets? Or is it the uniform and guns that appeal to the soldier in you?”

Bernie was relaxed enough not to mind this line of questioning. “Well, none of that hurts, does it? But I don't know that I’ve got a type, really. Alex may have had the uniform, but she couldn’t have been much more different otherwise.”

“And how about since Alex?” They were away from the bustle of the theatre now, and were walking up towards St James Park by unspoken agreement. It was a mild evening, and it seemed too soon to head back to the hotel and to the conference. 

Bernie exhaled slowly, and gave a little shrug. “There hasn’t really been anyone since Alex,” she said. Serena wasn't sure if it was sadness or resignation in her voice, but she squeezed her arm, pulling her a little closer.

“Hasn’t been, or hasn’t _really_ been?”

Bernie glanced down at her for a moment and her lip twitched in what was almost a smile. “You’d be the first to know if there was someone, I promise.” She shivered, and looked at her watch, unlinking her arm from Serena’s. “We ought to think about getting back, I suppose.”

But Serena took her arm again and tugged her onwards, through the gates to the park. “Oh, what’s your hurry? I don’t want today to end, it’s been perfect. Just a quick turn in the park? It’s such a lovely evening, it seems a shame not to enjoy the moonlight. I do love London for its parks and green spaces - have you ever been to the Isabella Plantation in Richmond Park? I’ll take you there next time we come up for a show.”

Serena chatted away quietly about her favourite bolt holes in London, and Bernie nodded and hummed at the right moments, content just to listen to her and take in the peacefulness of the park at night. How easily these things seemed to come to Serena, she thought. How she would have agonised over suggesting another visit, and how natural it was for Serena to assume that they would come here together, not just once, but again and again, a new regular occurrence with something new to do and see every time. She berated herself for trying to cut the evening short when Serena was enjoying it so much. And she had to admit that she was enjoying it too, though as ever it was spiked with a twist of longing that she knew would never be satisfied. She shivered again, and Serena pulled up short.

“You can’t be cold, surely? It’s so mild tonight.”

Bernie shook her head. “Not cold, no. Just a bit tired, I think.”

“Oh, Bernie I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. Let’s get back to the hotel, then. Come on, let’s find the nearest tube.” She looked at her phone, working out the quickest route back, but she paused for a moment, the moonlight highlighting the silver threads in her hair. 

“I really have had the loveliest day, Bernie. Thank you.” And she stepped into Bernie’s space, a hand on her arm, the other at her waist for just a heartbeat as she pressed a kiss to her warm cheek. Bernie stood dumbly as Serena smiled shyly at her and wiped a smudge of lipstick away.

“Come on, then soldier - home time.”

And she took Bernie’s arm once more as they made their way back to the station.

***

Serena had talked Bernie into one last drink in the hotel bar, and as they got up she noticed Bernie’s hand going to the small of her back, and she suddenly remembered what she thought had been a throwaway comment much earlier in the day.

“Did you mean it about your back, earlier, when we were talking to Kerry and Maggie at lunch? _Is_ it giving you trouble?”

Bernie turned her head, trying to suppress a wince. “Hmm? No, it’s fine, thanks.”

“It’s not fine - you didn’t want to walk far this morning, and it’s normally _me_ begging to get a bus instead of walking. It _is_ bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no, not really - it’s just a bit stiff, nothing too bad. I’ll go and get a good massage when we get back to Holby, that usually does the trick.”

“Why wait until then? I’ll give you a massage now, before we go to bed. I might not be a professional, but a bit of a massage and a good night’s sleep should take the edge off it.”

Bernie tried to brush off the offer, pointing out the lateness of the hour, but Serena was not to be dissuaded, and not to be argued with. Insisting that they take the lift rather than the stairs to save Bernie’s back further aggravation, she opened the door to their room and told Bernie to go ahead and use the bathroom and get ready for bed so she could just fall asleep once Serena had finished with her.

“And if you fall asleep during it, I will take it as the highest compliment,” she added.

Bernie thought it highly unlikely that she would fall asleep before, during or after, so tense was she, not only from the niggling pain in her back, but from her awareness of Serena kneeling next to her on the bed. And when Serena lifted her pyjama top, pushing it up as far as she could, then just telling Bernie to slip it off to give her better access, she closed her eyes more in despair than in relaxation. But Serena’s hands were firm and sure, and gradually Bernie felt her anxiety subside as the tension in her muscles was eased away.

The room was quiet but for the occasional murmur from Serena when she encountered a knot, and a low hum of appreciation from Bernie as the massage became gradually deeper and deeper. As Serena worked the stiffness from her back, Bernie focussed on the sensation of her hands smoothing across her skin, the firm pressure and the warmth feeling so good, so reassuring.

“You’re very good at this,” she murmured sleepily, and she could hear the smile in Serena’s voice as she replied.

“It’s just applied anatomy. I’ll ask you to return the favour one of these days.”

She carried on for a few more minutes, lightening her touch until she was barely stroking the smooth skin of Bernie’s back.

“There,” she said quietly. “How does that feel?”

But Bernie had paid her that compliment after all, and her only reply was the slow, deep breathing of a woman thoroughly relaxed. Serena smiled at the sight of her, lying on her stomach with her head to one side, her hair a cloud of gold across the pillow, eyelashes a dark crescent against her pale cheek. Allowing herself one last sweep of that long back, she pulled the covers up over Bernie’s sleeping form, but she couldn’t resist dropping a gentle kiss to her neck, eliciting a happy little hum from the sleeping woman.

She moved carefully so as not to wake Bernie, and got ready for bed. Teeth cleaned and makeup removed, she contemplated her reflection again, as she had done the night before. 

“Serena, Serena,” she sighed. “What are you doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show really *was* gayer than expected - you should know about Wonko's excellent Wicked! AU story [_For Good_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178404/chapters/27644718), in which Elphaba and Galinda are played by two very familiar figures. You should read it if you haven't done already - and if you have, go and read it again! 
> 
> That's the production Serena and Bernie have just been to see, and how they managed to avoid a cataclysmic collapse of the time-space continuum by encountering their alternate selves is anyone's guess. But they didn't - thank goodness!


	8. Day Three: Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena reflects on the previous day’s activities, and exactly why she found them so very enjoyable, and later on she catches up with an old friend. There is a new awkwardness between her and Bernie today, and their new friends realise that all is not as it seems.

When Serena woke early the next morning, Bernie was still asleep. She had rolled over at some point in the night, and Serena watched the rise and fall of her breath for a while, admiring the strong profile, and noting how soft Bernie looked in this state of total relaxation, a slight smile on her sleeping face. The covers were tucked under her arm now, and Serena lifted her hand, but resisted touching her bare shoulder. She held her hand close enough to feel the heat coming off the sleeping woman without disturbing her, and remembered the feel of her skin from the massage she had given her the night before.

She drew her hand back before she did something she - or Bernie - might regret. Yesterday had been so wonderful, not just because she had done all the things she loved to do, but because she had done them with Bernie, and because Bernie had taken such good care of her. She knew that if she had spent the same day with a man, it would unquestionably have been a date. Was that what yesterday had been? She knew that there was no-one she would rather have spent the day with, and if she were honest with herself, no-one she would rather have woken up with. But as for what came between the date and the waking up… was that what she wanted? She and Bernie were close; as close as she had ever been with a female friend, she thought, and last night’s innocent intimacy had felt so comfortable once Bernie had relaxed into it. 

She allowed herself a wry smile, for she knew that it hadn’t been entirely innocent. She had wanted to give something back to Bernie for the day she had been treated to, and the massage had truly been given out of care for her wellbeing, but she could not deny that she had enjoyed the connection between them, that she had been entranced by the feel of Bernie’s skin beneath her hands. And while kissing Bernie’s cheek in the moonlit park could be passed off as a gesture of gratitude and affection from one friend to another, the same could hardly be said for the kiss she had pressed to her neck after she had fallen asleep. What had possessed her? But she knew the answer to that. The real question was whether the way she was feeling was simply a product of the hothouse atmosphere of the conference, or something deeper, more lasting. She knew that with other friends she might just give it a go and see how it played out: she knew that if she were to make a pass at Ric, say, or even Raf, if it didn’t feel right they would just laugh it off and remain as friendly as ever, but she wasn't sure that the same would be true for Bernie.

Serena sighed. Staying in bed next to the half naked woman in question probably wasn’t helping to clarify her feelings, she acknowledged. She slipped out of bed and got dressed quickly and quietly, leaving Bernie to sleep on while she went down to breakfast.

***

Bernie woke up feeling as well rested as she could ever remember being. She stretched, feeling relaxed, happy and - she clutched at the sheet, bringing it up to her chin. Naked? That didn’t seem right. Oh, god, what had she done last night? She opened her eyes to find the other side of the bed empty, and there was no sound from the bathroom. Serena must be up and about already. 

Casting her mind back to the previous evening, it all came back to her, and she exhaled heavily in relief. She must have fallen asleep during the massage after all - and no wonder. Serena had worked out every knot, every tight spot in her back as tenaciously as she would treat any patient. But she hadn’t felt like a patient beneath Serena’s hands: she had felt cared for, loved, even. Blinking before she could even feel the prickle that she knew was sure to come, she swung her legs out of bed and shook off her thoughts before they could become gloomy.

She was already washed, dressed and halfway downstairs before she realised how freely she was moving, how little stiffness remained in her back. Serena really had done a number on her - and she had let her sleep in, which felt like a terrific indulgence. Yesterday had been such a perfect day, and even though her back had been troubling her all day, it had been worth it to see Serena’s unbridled enthusiasm for everything from the plants in the garden in Chelsea to the costumes at the show. And the massage had been a very unexpected bonus, which was still paying out this morning. Bernie couldn’t help the broad smile on her face. It was so easy to make Serena happy, and it seemed that these excursions might become a regular fixture for the two of them, and she was looking forward to planning something as soon as they could manage it. Oh, it was going to be easy to pretend to be Serena’s partner today: the real challenge for Bernie would be to leave the pretence of their relationship behind them in Stepney tomorrow.

She grabbed a coffee and a bowl of fruit and yoghurt, and went over to join Serena, who was deep in discussion with a well dressed man around their own age. She let her hand trail across Serena’s shoulder as she sat down with them, and Serena turned to her with a smile.

“There you are! Morning sleepyhead. How are you feeling for your lie in?”

“Oh - marvellous! I don't know what you did to me last night, but it knocked me out all right.” Bernie spoke without really considering how it would sound, and there was a definite moment of barely suppressed hilarity before Serena leaned over to press a hand to Bernie’s knee.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ve explained that you were having a lie in after I broke you yesterday, making you walk everywhere. The least I could do was give you a good back rub after everything you arranged for me yesterday. Tobias, this is Bernie: Bernie, Tobias Kendal - we were at med school together, many moons ago. He managed to wangle a day off at the last minute to get here last night - it’s a shame, Tobias, you’ve missed a lot of the fun.”

He reached across for a firm handshake. “So you’re the woman that’s brought Serena to her senses, eh? Pleased to meet you. I’ve always known she was just waiting to meet the right woman - and I knew it would be quite the woman who managed it.”

Bernie laughed self-deprecatingly and ducked behind her fringe from habit, so missed the wide-eyed, anxious look Serena shot at Tobias, and his stifled yelp from the swift kick she gave him under the table.

“I don’t know what Serena’s been saying about me,” she began, but Serena cut in.

“But it’s all true. Honestly, Tobi, I know I’m biased, but Bernie’s quite the most accomplished surgeon I’ve ever worked with, she’s practically a war hero, and - well, would you just look at the woman! Who could resist that combination, mm? Certainly not me!”

Bernie smiled uncertainly at her, wondering why she felt she had to keep up the pretence with an old friend, but she played along gamely.

“Well, hardly a war hero - but you’re right, I am a damn good surgeon. But look, I'm the lucky one - top vascular surgeon, she can take over as CEO at the drop of a hat, best gardener in Holby - and you’re no bag of spanners yourself,” she added, waggling her eyebrows at Serena.

“I do believe that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” Serena laughed.

“Well, there you are Tobias - you see, I do have flaws after all. I’ll try harder.”

“Hrmph - you’re still doing better than Edward ever did. I don’t think the word ‘romance’ was even in his vocabulary.” 

Serena was joking, but there was a note of bitterness that Bernie was dismayed to hear. How could anyone have been with Serena Campbell and not shower her endlessly with romantic gestures? If she had the right to bestow them, she thought she might never stop.

“And anyway, you never leave me in any doubt about how you feel - all those little gifts, all the thoughtful gestures - you treat me so well, Bernie - don't ever think I don’t appreciate it.”

Serena’s smile was so genuine, so warm, that Bernie felt all at once adrift, unsure of what was real and what wasn’t. Did Serena know how she truly felt about her? If only they hadn’t heard Jenny and Sue on the first day of the conference, laughing over their “medicinal pastries” that they later realised were tokens of love! But there was no judgement in Serena’s open, friendly gaze, no accusation, no awkwardness, and Bernie found herself smiling back shyly, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“I only treat you the way you deserve. Edward was an idiot.”

Tobias cleared his throat. “I’m not going to argue with that - he really was. Good to see you’ve found someone who really appreciates you Serena - I’m with Bernie, you deserve it. Listen, I’m going to leave you two lovebirds to it - I know when I’m surplus to requirements. Maybe see you at lunch?”

After he had gone, there was a silence that was not so much awkward as expectant, and neither woman wanted to be the first to speak in case they broke the spell of that bright moment. In the end it was Bernie who shook her head and muttered,

“Edward must have been _such_ an idiot.”

That broke the spell all right, and Serena laughed, a little huff of relief and disappointment combined. But Bernie continued, not quite looking at Serena.

“What kind of man takes someone like you for granted? Did he not realise how far out of his league you were? You ought to have someone who shows you what you’re worth, every day.” Bernie twisted her napkin until it was in shreds on the table, in resentment at the oaf who hadn’t appreciated the worth of what he had in Serena Campbell as well as in distress at her own mouth, which for some reason would not stop talking.

“I _have_ got someone like that.” Serena said emphatically, her hand clasping Bernie’s across the table. “I’ve got you, haven't I? I meant it, what I said before. You treat me _so_ well, Bernie. Don’t think for a moment that I don't appreciate everything you do for me - or that it’s not reciprocated. I’d rather have you than Edward, any day.”

Bernie looked up at her, eyes wide, then dropped her gaze to their joined hands.

Serena took a deep breath, then said, “Bernie - listen. Do you think maybe we could -”

“Serena, Bernie! There you are. Are you coming to this grudge thing in a minute? Let’s go and get seats at the back so we can pass notes and throw popcorn.” Nisha was at their table, waving the conference programme at them with Marie in her wake. “Oh - sorry, have I interrupted something?” She looked pointedly at their hands on the table, and Bernie slid her hand away, embarrassed.

“No, no - it’s fine. We were just agreeing what an arse Serena’s ex-husband was.”

Nisha’s eyebrows shot up. “Your ex- _husband?_ Wow - I’d never have guessed. Glad to see you’ve replaced him with a far superior model. Well, it sounds as though you’ll have something to contribute to the thing about exes, then. Do join us,” she pleaded.

“What else is on this morning?” Serena asked, reaching for the programme. “Isn’t there something about revenge on former partners? I wouldn’t mind picking up a few ideas,” she winked. “Here - look, _Vengeance is a Petrie dish best served cold - with botulism_. As a professional grudge bearer, I rather like the sound of that one.”

Marie shook her head. “The speaker had to cancel at the last minute. Apparently someone slashed their tyres last night and they can’t make it.” There was a beat, and Bernie’s laugh echoed round the dining room, setting the others off.

“Oh!” Serena wiped tears of laughter form her eyes. “That's too good to be true. I mean - poor them, of course, but _really_. Shame - it sounds as though they were just the person for the subject.”

“Maybe their ex would have been even better…” Marie suggested.

“So you’re going to _Nursing a grudge: when colleagues become exes_ \- well, that’ll do me. I expect everyone who was going to go to the revenge one will go to that instead - sounds good to me, and maybe a bit more constructive. Goodness knows there’s enough clearing up of messes when romances fall apart at work - might pick up some tips to pass on to Dominic next time.”

“Are you picking on my dudebro again? Poor lad.” Bernie turned to the other women. “Are they offering a replacement session, or just letting people choose from the other options?”

Marie pulled out her own programme. “There is an alternative - I scribbled it down in case you were interested. _When Cardiothoracic surgery isn’t enough: the one heart I can’t mend is my own_. It’s a case study, an Eastern European woman. I think she might be a day delegate - I’m sure we’d have noticed her before, she’s a really striking looking woman, a great Goth look. What is she, Nish, Hungarian? Ah - no, Ukrainian.”

Serena and Bernie looked at each other in mild astonishment. “Perhaps we’d better not go to that - though I confess, I’d love to know who broke her heart.”

“Someone you know? The blurb said something about killer cheekbones, if that’s any sort of clue. Oh, no - it’s not you, is it Bernie?” Nisha clapped her hand to her mouth, worried that she’d put her foot in it, but Bernie shook her head.

“CT and cheekbones can only mean one woman, I'm afraid - and she wouldn’t just break your heart, she’d destroy it. Poor Petrenko.”

“You're right,” Serena said. “She’d break it, stamp on it, set it on fire, and then make you lick up the ashes. I don’t suppose Frieda knows we’re here, or I doubt she’d have stepped up. Pity - I’d love to be a fly on the wall. _Nursing a grudge_ it is, then.”

Bernie drained her coffee cup and they made their way to the session, but not before Serena ran a finger along Bernie’s cheekbone, murmuring “I can see why Nisha thought it might be you, though.”

***

They came out of _Nursing a grudge_ slightly shell shocked.

“It makes you wonder why anyone ever gets into a relationship at all, let alone at work,” Bernie said faintly.

“Oh, don’t say that!” Serena protested, sounding as heartfelt as though they were truly a couple.

Bernie, who seemed to have forgotten their fictional status, reproved her. “Well, _you’ve_ changed your tune. What happened to office romances being the bane of your life?”

Marie nudged her. “Surely there’s at least one obvious exception?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, obviously… But you have always said that half your problems would be solved if workplace romance was firmly vetoed.”

“Well,” Nisha said soothingly, “Perhaps the final women’s session will help with that. _When chemistry won’t be denied: ten easy steps to avoid a Sapphic angstfest_. There might be things you can take back and implement to keep things a bit more manageable?” 

“What on earth is a Sapphic angstfest when it’s at home?”

_What I’ve been living ever since I met you_ , Bernie thought. “We’ll find out after coffee, I suppose,” she said.

***

It turned out that a Sapphic angstfest wasn’t really so different from the awkwardness caused by any situation involving unresolved sexual tension. The basic advice was to go for it, and not to let a working relationship prevent a romantic relationship from developing, but the tips shared with the group were genuinely sensible and useful. Serena was surprisingly focussed as she noted them down, and as she glanced through them, her finger paused over one that spoke to her loud and clear.

Nisha noticed her thoughtful expression and leaned over to see what had caught her attention. 

_Avoid a power imbalance: partners who are not equal in grade, status or influence would be better to work in different departments_ , she read.

“Not a problem for you two, eh - didn’t you say you’re co-leads? You really are the perfect partnership!”

Serena turned to look at Bernie, and bravely meeting her eye, she said “Well, we are equals, after all. Nothing to stop us, is there, Bernie?”

As Bernie stared back at her, eyes glazed and cheek flushed, Marie trod gently on Nisha’s foot and shot her a meaningful glance. It seemed that they had stumbled upon a Sapphic angstfest in their very midst, and at the end of the session they quietly slipped out of the lecture theatre unnoticed by Serena and Bernie, who were both lost in contemplation. It was Bernie who took the bull by the horns - or tried to.

“Serena, I think maybe we need to -”

“Listen, I promised I'd catch up with Tobi over lunch,” Serena cut in breathlessly. “You don’t mind fending for yourself, do you?” And squeezing her knee, she was suddenly gone, leaving Bernie confused, frustrated - and a tiny bit relieved.

By the time she pulled herself together and made her way through to the dining room, Serena was in earnest conversation with Tobias, her hands as expressive as her face, and Bernie tried to work out what she was talking about as she nodded determinedly at something Tobias said before hugging him fiercely, a blinding smile on her face. She tried to remember how Serena had introduced him earlier - was he bi? Was he an ex of Serena’s? She closed her eyes and swallowed. At least she had been spared the humiliation of finishing the sentence that would have exposed her feelings to Serena.

“Bernie? Bernie! I’ve been calling you for ages. Come and sit with us: we need to talk to you.” She opened her eyes to find Marie ducking her head to make eye contact through her fringe. “We’ve worked it out - we know what’s going on with you two, and it’s ridiculous. We’re going to sort it out, though - or at least you and Serena are.”

Caught on the brink between denial and flight, Bernie cast one last look back to where Serena was now sitting with Tobias, laughing and smiling like a woman in love, and she gave a great sigh and let Marie take her hand, pulling her over to the table Nisha had saved for them.

“You and Serena aren’t together, are you?” Nisha asked as kindly as she could.

Bernie shook her head.

“But you wish you were?”

And with a longing look at Serena across the room, Bernie Wolfe finally told the truth.

“More than anything.”


	9. Day Three: You Shall Go To The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anonymous delegate sends in a question by text to the closing panel, and although Bernie tries not to read too much into it, Marie’s response seems curiously pertinent. But once the session is over, Serena and Bernie are strangely at odds with each other, and they each resort to their favourite way of clarifying their thoughts. After the conference dinner, they leave the dancing to other delegates, and have one more discussion about Champagne and Shiraz...

It was the final session of the conference, and for the first time in three days, Serena and Bernie did not sit together. Serena was still deep in conversation with Tobias as they went through to the lecture theatre one last time after dinner, and although she had looked anxiously over at Bernie, Tobias had tugged her arm to keep her close. Nisha had steered Bernie away so that she had no choice but to join her and Marie as they entered the theatre through a door further forward than Serena was sitting. Consequently, she was not aware of Serena’s gaze on her throughout the closing panel, though she was all too aware that she was somewhere behind in the room, sitting with someone else.

Her new friends had given her a stern talking to over lunch, and Bernie was pretty well convinced now that Serena’s sudden attachment to Tobias Kendal was innocent, at least in as far as any sort of romantic entanglement went. For one thing, they explained, Tobi was as gay as the day was long, and there wasn’t a hint of the bisexual about him: they had encountered him at previous years’ events, and he was absolutely the confirmed bachelor. And for another, and more importantly, Serena so clearly only had eyes for Bernie that it had taken them until now to realise that the partnership had been for show.

“It wasn’t until we were talking between this morning’s sessions,” Marie had explained, “And then you said something about workplace romances not being worth the trouble after that grudge match thing.”

“But what Serena said just before lunch,” Nisha continued, “about you being equals, about there be nothing to stop you - well, I think you must both have forgotten we were there. You could have cut the air with a knife, and there was so obviously some deeper significance for you both. And we realised - it shows up a mile off to everyone except the two of you - you’re besotted with each other! You’re kidding yourselves if you think it’s just for show - though I can't imagine why you’re pretending anyway.”

Bernie sighed. “Women kept hitting on Serena the first day of the conference. I don’t think she minded too much, but there was one woman who just wouldn’t take piss off for an answer, so of course I waded in like the big macho army medic I am. We thought it would make things easier for her if everyone thought we were together, and it does seem to have taken the heat off for her.”

Marie looked at her shrewdly. “It hasn’t made things any easier for you, though, has it?”

She shook her head miserably. “It really hasn’t. It’s been nice in a way, to be able to pretend, but it’s been killing me, too. And people keep saying what a lovely couple we make, and it just feels… oh, I don’t know. I expect she thinks it’s a great joke, pulling the wool over people’s eyes like this, playing gay for a day, but it’s like being shown what I could have had, and knowing it’s always going to be out of reach.”

“I’m not so sure it is out of reach, Bernie, that’s the thing. You don’t see how she looks at you, you don’t hear how she talks about you. I swear, she feels the same way about you. I don’t know, maybe it’s taken being here for her to realise it, but that woman _adores_ you.”

***

Bernie had spent most of this final session playing that conversation over and over in her mind, as well as some of the moments she had shared with Serena over the course of the conference. Could Nisha and Marie be right? How easily it had come to Serena, this pretence of theirs. Could Bernie have been as carefree pretending such a thing with even her most trusted male colleagues and friends? She wasn’t sure that she could, but then she was Bernie Wolfe, and Serena was her open, friendly, flirty self. They had always flirted with each other a little, come to think of it: in the first day’s breakout session - what had that been called? Something about theatre, she thought - the one where they had met Marie and Nisha: there had been little things in there that she recognised from her working day with Serena. She was surprised Serena hadn't picked up on them herself - the little reciprocal gifts, the rapport they shared in theatre, the casual little touches and hugs that Serena couldn't seem to resist bestowing on her…

And then there was yesterday, when they had bunked off the conference and gone on what had truly felt like a magical date. She had taken great care over choosing destinations and activities that she knew Serena would enjoy, and the time they spent in their little bubble of happiness was more than reward for her. She had enjoyed everything they had done as well, but seeing Serena’s delight at every little thing, and knowing that she had caused that happiness had been wonderful. 

She thought back to that moment in the park, after the show, when they had walked together in the moonlight, arm in arm. Her hand rose to her cheek now as she recalled the kiss Serena had given her, and the finger she had stroked across the same spot earlier today. She couldn’t even contemplate the massage Serena had lavished on her last night without giving a little shiver. It had felt so very right to be there, with Serena’s hands upon her skin: not awkward or embarrassing as she had feared, but comforting and soothing and so very intimate. Could it really be that Serena felt something similar to her? Then why had she cried off and rushed away to meet Tobias just as Bernie had plucked up the courage to talk to her about the strange tension between them?

 

Nisha nudged her elbow, jolting her out of her reverie, and she saw that the final panel had congregated on the stage. There, alongside several of the key speakers, were both Simon and Marie. Nisha was beaming with pride as Marie was introduced, and Bernie applauded as loudly as anyone, though she thought she knew who was whooping and cheering from behind her.

The panel took questions from the audience, ranging from pleas for clarification over points of law to tips for those wanting to come out at work. There were laughs when a good looking young man asked slyly if Simon and Andrew were looking for an anaesthetist to “complete their team?” with even Simon chuckling as he shook his head. There were a few questions submitted anonymously by text. Bernie approved of this method - no chance for people to chip in with their own views in the “More an observation than a question, really…” style, and it cut out a lot of the waffle. They were usually submitted by people who didn’t like public speaking, or who wanted to maintain a little distance from the topic.

“Here’s another one by text. ‘My colleague and I have the perfect working relationship, but recently I’ve come to want more than just a professional connection with her. I’ve never been more than friends with a woman, and it terrifies me - but I don’t want that to stop something wonderful happening between us. I think she feels the same, but she would never make the first move, and I’m not sure I’m brave enough. How can we move forward?’ Thank you to whoever submitted this - and welcome to the family, whoever you are!” There was a warm ripple of applause, and the chair turned to the panel on the stage. “Who’d like to respond to this one?”

“I think this one’s got my name all over it,” laughed Sue, who had once kissed a woman in Selby. “Well, first of all, I’d say well done on coming here at all when it’s all so new to you - I think perhaps you _are_ brave enough. So. Anyone who came to our breakout session on the first day might remember that I found myself in a very similar situation a while ago. Jenny and I had become very close after working together for quite a long time, and I suppose I was just about where the person who asked this question was. I was just coming to realise how I really felt about her, and then we literally reached crisis point - we had a crisis at work that threw us together. For us it took something external, but I think it just accelerated things that were always going to happen anyway. Here’s hoping it doesn’t take an emergency to bring the two of you together, but hey, if she’s here too, there’s always the party tonight…”

Bernie thought she could pick Serena’s chuckle out of the murmur of laughter that rumbled round the room.

“But look. From what you say, she doesn’t know there’s even a possibility that you’re attracted to her, so you’re going to _have_ to be brave. If you’re sure of your feelings, if you’re certain it’s attraction, affection, _love_ , maybe - and not mere curiosity, then it sounds as though the ball’s in your court. No-one wants to be the guinea pig for the straight-but-curious friend - but a best friend who becomes your lover? - that’s everyone’s dream, isn’t it?”

“Thanks Sue - and good luck to you, whoever you are. Okay, I think we’ve got time for one or two more questions…”

Bernie jumped as Nisha’s elbow dug into her ribs. She looked up in surprise, and Nisha looked back at her expectantly, before shaking her head slightly. “Sorry, my arm slipped. Good advice, do you think?”

“Hmm? Oh, I couldn’t say - never been in that position, I suppose.”

Nisha barely managed to resist rolling her eyes at how obtuse Bernie was being.

“Never been in _either_ position? If your best friend wanted to be with you, wouldn't you want to know?”

Bernie set her jaw and looked resolutely at the stage, where someone was doing their best to address an incredibly pedantic point about employment law made by an audience member.

“Shh, I want to hear this,” she muttered unconvincingly. After several minutes of painstaking detail on certain subclauses and addenda, and sensing that they were in danger of losing the audience, the chair managed to interrupt the conversation.

“Well, thank you for you r question, Bernard, but I think that really is all we’ve got time for. I’d like to remind GLDA members that our AGM will be held in this room tomorrow at eleven. For anyone not attending that meeting, the conference is drawing to a close now as we finish this session, but we hope you will all stay for this evening’s celebrations, which really have been the highlight of conference in previous years. Now, I’d like to give the last word to our panel. Ladies and gentlemen, any final words of wisdom or advice?”

Their closing words ranged from bland platitudes, to exhortations to take the fight back to their workplaces, to words of gentle encouragement. Marie, sitting at the far end of the stage, was the last to speak, and she paused for a moment to take in the moment.

“I can’t tell you what it's meant to me to be included in this year’s programme - for a transwoman - for _any_ trans person to be invited to share their story, and I hope it’s the first of many such stories to be told here. I wanted to echo Sue’s words from earlier, because I think there are a lot of brave people in this room. If you're not feeling brave, remember that we’ve all got your back: we as colleagues, as union members, as friends and as family. So whether you’ve grown up knowing you were different to the other girls and boys, or if that realisation is just sinking in now, be brave,” and she seemed to fix someone behind Bernie with a warm but firm look, and then turning the same friendly smile upon Bernie herself, “and be happy.”

She sat down, and Nisha positively squealed at the applause her little speech received. She caught Bernie’s arm, and giving it a squeeze, she suddenly said, “Oh, what the hell!” and gave her a great crushing hug, whispering in her ear, “Be brave, and be happy Bernie!”

Awkwardly patting her on the back, Bernie could think of nothing to say, but managed a mumbled “You too,” that made no sense even to herself, and pulled back. She craned her head to try and see Serena, and saw Tobias passing her an enormous handkerchief, only for Serena to bat it away, wiping at the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. She was smiling, Bernie saw with relief, and now she was waving at her, that smile turned all the way up. Bernie offered a little wave and a shy smile of her own, and gestured to the bar, one hand waggling in the universal sign language for “drink?”

They met at the bar, strangely shy after just two or three hours apart.

“I got you a drink,” Bernie said, holding out the glass. “Thought you’d be about ready by now.”

“Thank you. You’re not wrong.” Serena took the glass and savoured her first sip of the day. “Are you not having one?”

Bernie was a little shamefaced. “I pretty much knocked it back in one - must have been thirsty. I’d better not have another just yet.” She wished she hadn’t been so hasty, for she didn’t know quite what to do with her hands, and twisted her fingers nervously. She gestured at the bar. “I might just go and get a glass of water - do you want anything?”

Serena raised her glass to remind Bernie that she had only just this moment given her a glass of wine. “I’d better pace myself too, I think. This is fine for now.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll just… I’ll be back in a minute.”

Bernie turned on her heel, her shoulders sinking as she closed her eyes. _Why can't I just be normal around her?_ She shouldered through the throng to reach the neglected water jug: evidently their fellow delegates had no such compunction about pacing themselves this evening. She drank a full glass down standing there at the end of the bar, and poured two more glasses to take back.

“I know you didn’t ask for water, but I thought you might be glad of it. I’ll drink it if you don’t want it.”

Serena took the glass from her, but put it on the windowsill behind her. “Thanks. I expect I’ll be glad of that in a bit. Didn't Marie do well in there?”

“She did. Nisha was beside herself - it was very sweet.” Bernie swirled the water in her glass, watching the little whirlpool it created. “You had a good long chat with Tobias.” It wasn’t a question, but it felt as though there was one somewhere underneath there.

“Haven’t seen him for ages - we had a lot to catch up on. He’s always been a good listener.”

“Something on your mind you can’t talk to me about?”  
“What did you think of Sue’s response to that question?”

They spoke at the same time and laughed, but neither felt inclined to repeat themselves.

Serena hesitated, and said, “I was thinking I might go and have a bath before dinner - would you mind?”

“Mind? No, of course not. Good idea. I might go and investigate the gym - seems a shame not to use it while we’re here. I’ll just pop up to the room with you and get my things. Oh, but do you want to stay and finish your wine?”

Serena shook her head. “I’ll take it up with me I think, enjoy it in the bath.”

The odd, disjointed conversation carried on in the bedroom, as they somehow contrived to be in each other's way at every turn. Gone was the easy companionship of the previous day, gone the seamless communication they shared in theatre, and they were as awkward as two strangers suddenly thrown together and asked to share a hotel room.

“Right, I’ll just, um…” Bernie gestured at the door, her gym bag in hand. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit. Have fun!”

“You too,” Bernie replied automatically before considering what sort of fun Serena might possibly be able to get up to in the bath. Shutting the door behind her, she leant back against it, her head thunking against it as she closed her eyes, muttering, “Bernie Wolfe, you utter _arse_.”

Unbeknownst to her, just the other side of the door, her actions were mirrored as Serena slumped against it, whispering, “Oh, Bernie. What do we do now, hey?”

***

Bernie didn't stay very long in the gym. It was small, reasonably well equipped, and just at the moment, full of preening medics. She forced herself to do a quick warmup session, then left the fug of testosterone behind and hit the streets of Stepney. She much preferred running outside than on a treadmill anyway, and the warm afternoon was no challenge to a woman who had trained much harder than this in the heat of Camp Bastion. Catching a glimpse of green at the end of the street, she headed into a large park - one of Serena’s beloved London green spaces, she thought. She overtook other runners and joggers; dog walkers; slow-walking parents with children. The park was well used, with queues at the ice cream van, and people sprawled out on the grass in the summer heat: groups of students with bottles of beer and cider, families with picnics, and lovers with each other.

Lovers. She remembered Serena’s words after the first session this morning, about avoiding a power imbalance between lovers who were also colleagues: _Nothing to stop us, is there, Bernie?_ And this morning’s anonymous questioner, who had never been with a woman, but who had said, _I don't want that to stop something wonderful happening between us_.

Was she reading too much into it? What else had the mystery questioner said? I think she feels the same, but she would never made the first move. Well, that was her, all right. Totally besotted, utterly cowardly. And how could she make the first move, if she weren’t sure that it was Serena’s question? If she were to tell Serena how she felt only to discover that the notion had never crossed Serena’s mind… But something had shifted between them these last few days, that was an inescapable truth. Serena had said that the conference had been an eye-opener for her, and perhaps she meant in a deeper way than simply making her think about the challenges gay colleagues faced. At the speed dating event, she had asked if Q stood for _queer_ or _questioning_ … Nisha and Marie were convinced that Serena wanted more than friendship. That woman adores you, they had said.

As she ran, the jumbled thoughts gradually smoothed out into a pattern in her mind. 

_Serena wants to be with me_.  
_I want to be with her_.  
_There’s nothing to stop us_.  
_Be brave_.  
_Be happy_.

Over and over the mantra ran through her head, and by the time she slowed to a jog and cooled down on her way back to the hotel, she was calmer than she could remember being for a very long time.

Serena’s bath seemed to have had a similar effect, and when Bernie let herself into the room, it was to find Serena sitting in the chair by the window, wrapped in a white dressing gown and reading her book. She looked up with a happy smile and put her book down.

“How was the gym? It must have been good - you’ve been gone for ages!”

Bernie had almost forgotten about the gym, and had got halfway up the stairs before she remembered that her bag was still in a locker and had trotted back down to the basement to retrieve it.

“I went out for a run in the end - it was a bit of a boys’ club down there. I found a park a few streets away, did a few laps. We could go and have a walk in the morning if you like? There’s a little café by the lake, I thought we could go for coffee before we head back to Holby?”

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” Serena looked at the clock next to the bed. “We’ve got an hour or so before dinner. Do you want to go and have a shower? We could just about manage a drink before if you’re quick.”

“I’ll be done before you know it.” Bernie promised, and slipped into the bathroom. By the time she came out, feeling fresh and clean, Serena was dressed and applying her make up. She was wearing the dress that Bernie had suggested was a bit too much on the first night, but she had no complaints about it now. It clung to her curves, revealing enough cleavage to be mouth-wateringly tantalising without looking cheap, the loose elbow-length sleeves moving a little in the breeze from the open window.

Bernie smiled at Serena’s reflection in the mirror, and Serena smiled back shyly, taking in the sight of Bernie wrapped in a white towel, drops of water from her wet hair scattered across her shoulders.

“Give me a hand with this?” She held the two ends of a heavy silver necklace up at either side of her throat, and Bernie’s knuckles brushed the back of her neck as she fastened the clasp.

“This is new - not wearing your pendant?”

Serena fussed with the pots and tubes of make up on the dressing table, shuffling them back into their bag. “Well, it’s a special occasion, isn’t it? I thought I’d make an effort.”

Bernie’s hand was still at the nape of Serena’s neck, and she dropped it reluctantly. “Your effort’s paid off - you look lovely.”

She turned away from the mirror and opened the wardrobe door between her and Serena. “It will astonish you to learn I’ve brought a new pair of black jeans,” she said drily. “Which of these, do you think?”

She held up several blouses for Serena’s inspection, and after asking her to hold up each one in turn, she picked one that complemented her own dress beautifully, the silky drape at the neckline that fell almost to the waist echoing the sleeves of Serena’s dress, and giving a much softer look than the sharp collars of Bernie’s usual button up shirts. “Let’s be women in black together again, shall we?” 

“You don’t think it’s a bit _hers and hers?_ ”

That shy smile bloomed on Serena’s face again. “Well, we _are_ a couple, remember?”

“Of course - how could I forget,” Bernie laughed softly. She dried her hair and dressed quickly as Serena finished her make up, resolutely looking herself straight in the eye and not glancing over to the other side of the room. When she turned round, Bernie was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling her ankle boots on. As she stood, Serena’s breath caught for a moment. Bernie had seriously undersold her outfit as “a new pair of black jeans.” Somehow even more form fitting than her everyday jeans, they were a deeper black than seemed possible, and they were clearly expensive, though Serena couldn't see the label. Serena hadn’t yet seen the outfit that made Bernie look anything less than gorgeous, but this vision in black was something else.

“Well, look at us,” she managed, tugging Bernie over to stand before the mirror with her. They did indeed make a very handsome couple, and Bernie couldn’t help slipping an arm around Serena’s waist and pulling her a little closer, as though they were posing for a photo.

“Right. Let me put on a bit of slap and we’ll head down, shall we?”

Serena sat on the bed watching Bernie put on her makeup, feeling a strange thrill at the cosy domesticity of it. Why on earth had Edward ever complained about the time it took her to get ready when it was so fascinating to watch a woman like this?

As they came out of the lift downstairs, Bernie offered her arm to Serena in what had become such a familiar gesture over these three days, and Serena slipped her hand into the crook of her elbow and gave a little squeeze as they went through to the bar.

As they walked in, they heard a low whistle. “Well, if there was an award for the best looking couple, you two would win it hands down,” said Tobias, waiting to be served at the bar. “No need to ask what you’ve been up to this afternoon, you’re positively glowing,” he insinuated.

“Tobias Kendal!” Serena reprimanded him, blushing. “If you must know, Bernie went out for a run and I’ve had a lovely long bath. It’s all perfectly innocent - not that it’s any of your business.”

Laughing, he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just jealous, that’s all. Let me get you a drink by way of apology - Shiraz, yes? Bernie, what will you have?”

They found a spot out on the terrace and made small talk. They were joined by Marie and Nisha, and when they were called through to dinner, they made up a table with another couples who Nisha introduced as Sam and Chris, and a consultant surgeon who had been making eyes at Tobias all day. Dinner was a convivial affair, and the conversation flowed as easily as the wine. The food was good, and Serena took delight in encouraging Bernie to try mouthfuls of her own meal, exchanging them for a nibble here and there of the alternative that Bernie had ordered.

“It’s so dull when you both have the same, isn’t it? Half the fun of dining out is the sharing, I think,” she said, reaching over for a stem of asparagus from Bernie’s plate. Bernie smiled in agreement, watching as Serena licked the butter from her fingers. “What?” Serena asked, suddenly self conscious under her intent gaze.

“You missed a bit.” And Bernie wiped a smear of melted butter from her bottom lip with her thumb. Across the table, Tobias broke off from his conversation with the surgeon, and Nisha and Marie smiled conspiratorially at each other.

There was a lull after dinner as the hotel staff moved the tables to make space for the dance floor, and the delegates moved back into the bar, spillling out onto the terrace in the early evening sunshine. By the time the carpets had been rolled back to reveal the sprung wooden floor and the band had set up, the partygoers were well oiled and ready to dance, but Serena was in no hurry to join the flood of people pouring back into the main room as the music started.

“Let’s stay out here a while, hmm? It’s far too nice an evening to spend in a darkened room, and we can hear the music just as well out here without damaging our hearing.”

Bernie was as happy to sit out on the deserted terrace as Serena, and they sat in companionable silence, watching little birds flit in and out of the hedges and trees. Eventually Serena nudged Bernie’s elbow.

“Thanks for being so good about this whole conference cock-up, Bernie. I know you weren’t thrilled by the idea of it, but you haven’t complained at all. It hasn’t been so bad after all, though, has it?”

“It really hasn’t.” Bernie sounded surprised, as though she hadn’t noticed how enjoyable it had all been. “I thought it was going to be a bit of a waste of three days, but there’s been some interesting stuff - maybe not useful, as such, but it’s been all right. How have you found it? Bit of a shock, some of it?”

Serena laughed. “I think we made the right decision yesterday - we missed the worst of it. Tobi was telling me about the Shag Tag thing - sounded awful. He enjoyed it though. But it hasn’t been so much a shock as… I don’t know, thought provoking, I suppose. It's made me think about things I never considered before, about the residual stigma of criminalisation, for example - I just never thought about it until the Wolfenden thing on Wednesday - you know. And people’s personal stories - Marie, and, uh, Jenny and Sue. That was… it made me think about things.”

She paused to watch as a handful of swallows swooped and dived overhead. How brave and happy they looked. How brave and happy was she prepared to be? She took a sip of her wine and licked her lips, suddenly dry mouthed.

“And you’ve looked after me so beautifully, you know? I mean, I didn’t feel I needed protecting at all, but you’ve just been there ready to step in if things got a bit uncomfortable for me. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you picked our every activity yesterday with me in mind - the Chelsea Physic Garden, the wine bar, that gorgeous little restaurant, the show… you couldn't have planned a more perfect day for me.” 

She put her wine glass down on the table and turned to her.

“Isn’t there anything _you_ want, Bernie?”

Bernie had been ready to reply that she had enjoyed all those things as much as Serena had, but it died on her lips. Oh, that question! How could she reply, when the only thing she wanted was the woman asking the question? She shrugged helplessly, hopelessly, but Serena had seen the searching expression on her face, the brief but telling flicker of Bernie’s eyes to her own lips, and she was certain. Bernie fussed with her champagne flute, but Serena took it from her hands and set it aside, her fingers tangling with Bernie’s.

“Oh, Bernie. Who wants champagne when there’s Shiraz in the world?” Bernie ducked her head with a little shake, as though to brush off the implied compliment, but Serena tucked two fingers under her chin and lifted it, smiling. “Who could be happy with bubbles when you’ve got the depth and the complexity of a fine, well-aged wine? Bernie, I don’t want champagne. I want the Shiraz, the good stuff. I want _you_.”

She held Bernie’s worried gaze unwaveringly and slid a hand up to cup her cheek, until, dropping her head, Bernie pressed a lingering kiss to the palm of her hand, her breath warm against the tender skin.

“I want the Shiraz, too,” she whispered, and leaning in, her lips met Serena’s at last.


	10. Day Three: Oh, What A Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conference is over. The night is not.

Kissing Bernie Wolfe was everything Serena had thought it might be. It was thrilling, there was no denying that. She had never kissed a woman before - not like this, not as a lover, and it was so different from any kiss she could remember. Was it because Bernie was a woman? She didn’t know, and she didn't much care. All she cared about was the feel of Bernie’s lips against her own, her hand in her hair, her breath on her cheek. Again and again they kissed, oblivious to the partygoers inside, oblivious to the handful of people still out on the terrace with them, oblivious to everything except each other.

Serena lifted her hand back up to Bernie’s face, sliding across her cheek and into that beautiful hair. She pulled back for a moment, her eyes full of delight at the softness of her hair, her neck, her lips.

“Bernie,” she murmured, and leaned back in, her mouth open to Bernie’s kisses. She found herself moving in closer to her, their bodies pressing against each other on the wooden bench. It was Bernie who drew back first, dropping ever lighter kisses to Serena’s lips, her cheeks, her eyelids.

“Serena. Oh, Serena,” and her sigh was not one of regret or disappointment, but of wonder and sheer contentment, that they had reached this moment at last. “I didn’t dare hope you might feel like this.” And although it was her who had slowed things down, she leaned back in again, unable to resist kissing Serena again, because she was so beautiful, because she didn’t know how else to express everything she was feeling, and because, unbelievably, she could.

“How could I not feel like this?” Serena asked between kisses, “When you’ve taken such good care of me, when you’ve been so… god, I lose my words around you, Bernie.” She pulled back just enough to tuck her head beneath Bernie’s chin, her head against Bernie’s chest as they sat in the diminishing light of the evening. Bernie’s arm was around her now, and she couldn’t remember ever feeling so contented, but so quietly thrilled at the same time. Her hand rested on Bernie’s hip, and she moved her thumb against the loose fabric of the silky blouse, just at Bernie’s waist. She suppressed a shiver at the suddenly realised notion that there was so much more to explore with Bernie, and she calmed herself with that gentle rhythmic stroking.

It wasn’t calming for Bernie, though, and she hummed at the touch, her own arm circling Serena more tightly as she leaned her cheek against the crown of Serena’s head. “This is… Is this real, Serena? Are we really here, really together? Because if it’s not real I think I’ll -”

“It’s real, Bernie.” Serena sat up straight again, her hand still against Bernie’s side, the other going to her cheek again. She couldn't seem to stop touching her face, and she pushed back a lock of golden hair that was falling across Bernie’s eyes. “It’s real. I think perhaps it’s been coming for a while now. When I heard all those stories of people falling in love, recognising all those little signs… I just saw you and me in those stories, didn’t you? All those little ways we look after each other, the way we are together in theatre, how _easy_ it is to be together - that’s not just friendship, is it? I mean, we’re friends, the best of friends, of course we are, but I think there’s been more for a long time now, something deeper. If you’d been a man, I would have recognised it long before now, but you’ve been so careful, I can see that now, that I didn't know… Oh, Bernie, darling, I'm sorry it’s taken me so long to see it!”

But Bernie shook her head. “No - no, it’s not… I don’t think you would have been ready to see it before now, do you? You had to be in the right place, for you, I mean. If I’d tried to tell you before, I think… Well, I think you needed to come to the conclusion on your own. We’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Serena smiled so sweetly that Bernie thought her heart might stop. “It is all that matters. But shall we be somewhere else now? It’s awfully public here.”

“It’s all right, Serena - we’re among friends. No-one minds seeing two women kissing here,” Bernie smiled, for the first time in her life enjoying the freedom of being able to express her love for another woman without fear of recrimination or scorn.

Serena leaned in as though for another kiss, but stopped a hair’s breadth from her lips and whispered, “I wasn’t necessarily thinking of stopping short at just kissing…”

***

Bernie was waiting for her in the bedroom; her glass of champagne abandoned for a richer wine, half their clothes scattered about the bedroom where Serena had flung them almost as soon as they had staggered through the door together. Serena looked in the bathroom mirror, her make up gone, her teeth cleaned for the last night of this oh, so very surprising conference. She smiled at herself, and her brave, happy reflection smiled back at her as she greeted herself.

“Serena Campbell: _Lesbian_.”

***

It should feel strange, Serena thought, making love with Bernie, with her best friend - with a woman. But it really wasn’t strange at all. The only thing that seemed strange to her was that it had taken her so long to realise that her appreciation of Bernie’s hair, her cheekbones, her long legs, had been much more than a simple enjoyment of beauty, but rather a growing attraction to the woman she spent so much time with. And now that she could admit that to herself, she could admit too that it was Bernie’s lean torso, the sweet curve of her breasts, the perfect handfuls (as she had now discovered) of her rear that had fascinated her, too.

Because it was clear to her now that this glorious feeling that she hardly dared name was not simply a product of these three days spent focussing on a life less heterosexual. Perhaps it had helped things along, made it easier to think and talk about things that had lain below the surface, but the moment Bernie had kissed her, she had experienced a sharp and wonderful jolt of recognition deep in her belly. _This_ was what she wanted: this woman, this wonderful, wonderful woman. And because she was Serena Campbell, she didn’t just want a handful of kisses; a hand to hold; a pair of unfathomably deep brown eyes to gaze into. Oh, no - for Serena Wendy Campbell, nothing but _all_ of the best of the best would do.

So it was that Bernie found herself shivering not from the cold, but in sheer anticipation as Serena kissed her hotly before going into the bathroom with an admonition for her to _stay right there_ , as if there was anywhere else in the world she could possibly be at a moment like this. Too overwrought to sit meekly on the edge of the bed, she paced the room, tidying away the discarded clothing that had barely made it through the door. Thankful that she had worn a top that was so easy to slip off over her head, she picked it up and hung it back up in the wardrobe, wondering how many buttons it would still have had she worn one of her usual shirts. Serena’s dress was crumpled but not damaged, and she hung that up, too. She straightened both pairs of shoes, smoothed out the covers on the bed, made sure the little chocolates were not left on the pillows - chocolate may be an aphrodisiac, but chocolate stains were not - and finally at a loss how to keep busy, she let herself glance in the full length mirror.

She had to laugh. Serena had always teased her about her messy curls, but she could hardly be blamed for the state Serena had got her hair into. She raked her fingers through it to try and gain some semblance of order, and assessed herself. Bashful she might be, but she had no false modesty about her physique, and she gave a little nod of satisfaction at her toned body, the scars of her surgery faded to the faintest of lines, and smiling at a glow of happiness she couldn’t remember ever having seen on her own face before. Her hand drifted down past the sheer black bra to the button of her jeans. Should she take them off? She had a feeling that Serena might enjoy performing that particular operation herself, however fiddly it might prove.

Serena saved her from having to make that decision, for she emerged from the bathroom now, as radiant as Bernie had ever seen her. Dear lord, but she was beautiful. Bernie had always thought so - had always known so, from their very first meeting, but seeing her now in the soft light of the bedside lamps, her face free of make up and wearing just the hotel dressing gown and her underwear, she was lovelier than ever. Bernie felt as though she wanted to cry with happiness, with love, but instead she took three strides across the room to meet Serena and to take her in her arms. Their lips met again, again, again, Bernie’s body surging against Serena’s. She dropped her hand to the tie of the dressing gown, pausing to make sure it was all right, and Serena helped her pull it free, the gown slipping from her shoulders and onto the floor.

Bernie’s hands followed the gown over Serena’s shoulders, mapping the muscles of her back, tracing her spine, sweeping across luscious curves. Her skin was so warm, so wonderfully soft, and her hand drifted round to smooth across Serena’s belly, her ribs, up under her arm, until Serena took her hand and placed it on her full breast.

“You don’t need to be shy, Bernie. I want this, I want you, so much,” she told her, her own hands splayed across Bernie’s hips, pulling them close into her own body. She brought a hand round to the button of those sinful jeans, even as Bernie’s thumb brushed across her nipple though the soft cup of her bra, and they gasped, then laughed together.

“Off,” Bernie mumbled into a kiss. “All of it - everything - off, now.” By the time they were naked, they were on the bed, laughing and kissing and moving against one another all at once. How was it possible that there was no awkwardness? Bernie wondered. How anxious and nervous she had been the first time she had done this with a woman, but Serena was so confident, so brave, so ready to be happy. She decided that it was something to give thanks for rather than to dwell on, when there were so many other delightful things available for her contemplation, and she made it her task to dwell as thoroughly as she could on each of them. Serena’s breasts were heavy in her hands, and it was a new thing altogether for her to be with someone whose body was so generously proportioned, so yielding, so luxurious, and she revelled in it. She brought her face down to Serena’s cleavage and nuzzled in, relishing the softness of those breasts against her cheek before bringing a hand back up to stroke against the side of her breast, supporting it as she moved her mouth to Serena’s nipple.

Serena’s voice had always… done things to her, but now, as she made love to her, that voice was driving her crazy, and she shifted without even realising she was doing it so that Serena’s thigh was between her own as she rocked her hips just enough to take the edge off her own need. With a deep moan, Serena brought her own hand down to meet Bernie’s wetness, and finding her so very ready, she rolled them over until Bernie was beneath her, and sliding her hand a little lower, she met Bernie’s smouldering eyes to see nothing there but want. She slid even lower, and suddenly she was inside her, her fingers searching and stroking. She may not have done this with another woman before, but Serena was no prude, and no stranger to her own body, and she drew Bernie higher and higher as she kissed her way down to her chest, taking a nipple in her mouth and licking slowly, firmly. She recognised the signs as a flush spread across Bernie’s chest, the fine line of her scar only now visible against the mottled flesh, and as her limbs twitched. She smiled against Bernie’s breast, and bringing her thumb up, she moved it until she knew from Bernie’s reaction that she had found the right spot, and with a little pressure, she wrung out wave after wave of pleasure from Bernie’s beautiful body.

Serena stayed draped across her as she came back to earth, panting a little, the flush fading from her chest. Bernie brought heavy arms up to hold Serena tight against her, astonished at the turn things had taken. “Serena…” she finally managed to murmur. “Oh, my goodness. I thought…I thought I was going to teach you things you didn’t know, but I see you’re ahead of me as usual.”

A joyous laugh bubbled up in Serena’s throat, and she rolled over onto her back, arms open. “Come here and teach me everything you know, then, Major,” she invited.

Over the next few hours, for much of the next morning, and for the next thirty years or so, Bernie Wolfe did just that.

***

**Twelve months later**

“Hello folks, and welcome to the first of our breakout sessions this year - thanks for choosing _Mid-life lesbians: not so washed up after all_. We’ve got three lovely guests to talk to you this afternoon, and they’d all like you to feel free to chip in with any questions you may have for them as we go along. Our first speaker is from Holby City Hospital, and I understand today is something of an anniversary for her - please give a warm welcome to Serena Campbell.”

There was a warm ripple of applause in the full room - this had proved to be a very popular session indeed.

“Serena, welcome. Would you like to tell us how you come to be speaking to us today?”

“Well,” Serena drawled, leaning forward as though confiding in a close friend, “It all started when I kissed a woman at a party in Stepney…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments have been so generous, and so lovely to read. You’re the actual best x


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